Carving ϟou
by JrOeKnEeRe
Summary: He saw her as a new challenge. Something to break, play with & manipulate to the core. But she surprises him, catches him off guard to the point of his mind actually being blank. Feels good & unnatural. He better be careful. Always Ace of Knaves. JokerxOC
1. Overdid It

_There will be a Sequel in the future just to show everyone that this story has not ended in my chaotic imagination,_

_::lots of YouTube videos I made as well. all on profile page::_

_spontaneous decision: I changed the title :) Why? b/c it's getting closer and closer for the sequel to finally rip through my computer & into FanFic &... I just think the old title isn't what I want anymore.. oh yes. and yes, I can't stop coming back to edit more and more and more...it'll prob never end xD much like the immortal MrJ no?_

**Carving ϟou**

By: JrOeKnEeRe

**1**

**Overdid It**

The chair hurt more than I thought it would. You'd think with all the money the mob has, they could afford cushions. I look around and spot their chairs. With cushions. I'm the only one sitting on the hard, back slaughtering chair after what they've done. And the table. Even the table brought on pain, how cold it was against the cuts and bruises. So much that I jumped slightly whenever I'd lean into it. What they did. It wasn't necessary, even if I did put up a fight but they definitely overdid it. Everything had their own pounding heart beat for god's sake.

Laughing came towards the end of the table.

This whole meeting has been a blur. My head was pounding, ears felt like they were bleeding and body screamed of agony. Of course I would block this moronic meeting out, mindless talk about their money, even the chilling high pitched laughter that interrupted everyone only moments ago. I didn't pay attention to sound. It hurt to focus on anything other than trying to ignore the pain. But I would have to come out of it sooner or later. Faster than wanted.

One of Gambol's men shot up, roughly snatched my arm and yanked upwards. "Her?" Gambol spat in disgust, motioning for his assistant to bring us closer.

A rugged man stood near the edge nodding dramatically. Dark eyes fixated. He wasn't like the mob dealers here. His fashion was anything but the normal style. Customized green and purple suit popped out more than any other criminal in Gotham would dare. They try to avoid that. But it fit him perfectly as if professionally tailored, enhancing the shy muscles lingering beneath the material. The Joker. I may have been out of it but I knew who was who in Gotham. Criminals being the least, I've never had to know.

"You can have her but only if you leave," Gambol twitched his finger, resulting in my head-on collision with the Joker who swiftly caught his prize. From there, he opened his jacket to reveal explosives all connected with green string. They sprung up, searching for an escape.

"Thank you gentlemen for the house warming gift but we really must be on our way. Remember what we discussed," he took out a Joker card and placed it on the table. "Call me!" and swung me to his other side while kicking the door open. The harder he squeezed, the more magnetizing the pain. But I kept from making any noise that'd make him remember he had someone attached to his side. He seemed pretty distant. Like he was focusing on something unknown but all that was in front of us was the black air.

A van appeared just then. Its back doors banged open with two henchman jumping out, surprised to see their boss carrying a souvenir. "Is that for us?" one of them pointed.

The Joker pushed him into the van, still not saying anything. "I'm sorry boss, it's just you never bring anything of value back with you except weapons."

"Shut up and get in the driver's seat!" he growled, dragging me to the front car door. One push was all it took. I slammed hard on the seat, the driver giving a toothless grin. He crawled inside and made my effort to get up useless. "Drive!"

The loyal minion slammed his foot down and jerked the van into acceleration. Thrown backwards into the seat, my legs spread out, neck cramped, arm nearly slapped his chest. One foot stuck behind his left and the other bent underneath my butt. The streets flashed by quickly. Too fast to see where we were going. He was watching silently. It only took awhile before he tilt his head in amusement.

"Name?" one word, one chill, one desperate need to hide.

He smacked my lips tight before they had a chance. "Shh- I want to figure this out myself," he laughed but stopped suddenly, bringing his hand down quickly. Almost as if he touched something very hot. The black makeup around his eyes molded, confused with what he was seeing. Instead of a fearful expression, I was abnormally calm. The answer soon fell.

A thin line of blood, which had been slowly building the past few hours, has finally trickled down from my skull. He followed its trail until it dropped to the seat, looking back up just as I reached for the source. Touching the small puddle, it really was blood. Heavy, dark and slippery liquid confirming the fear. He merely stared curiously.

"Definitely overdid it," my last words were barely audible before nearly fainting. It could very well be so but I was still somewhat coherent.

He stopped me before I leaned back into the driver with only the tip of his fingers, causing a different fall. I fell into him instead. He clenched both his hands into strong fists, trying to avoid touching. But the driver took a sharp turn. Every other time he would have opened the window in response, thrust his head out, laughed hysterically while enjoying the jerky ride. But now he had this burden.

I knew what was happening yet couldn't do anything about it. There was a growing weakness becoming so intense as to shut everything down. Not moments before I heard him say.

"Sizzle," the driver responding with a grunt. "When we arrive, get all the information and background on this girl." He nodded, taking quick mental notes. His mind already jammed with psychobabble. The Joker knew he would have to repeat the order and when he does, the clown will be with one less finger and an even deeper scar added.

And then I was gone.

Looking to the street, to the few pedestrians dodging the van's erratic drive, he looked everywhere else besides the thing covering his lap. Just the fact that he was protecting rather than afflicting pain or challenging to a breaking point made him silent and unable to give thoughts to anything else.


	2. Gloved

**.**

**2**

**Gloved**

The dimmed light was just enough for him to flip through as many pages as he possibly could. This girl was even more valuable than he thought. He watched her breathing steadily on his bed. Sprawled out, underneath his black comforter. He quickly looked back to her file, reading faster.

Name: Dawes, Renee

Age: 24

Employment: Unknown

Relatives: Rachel Dawes. Parents deceased.

Background: The only known records that have been recorded is the information you see here and extra notes. Extra notes include: Renee and Rachel Dawes have had no communication for years. Reasons are unknown. Note: A specific and valid recorded time marks the time the communication between the two relatives had receded.

Further Notes: Childhood information can be seen in further pages tagged, limited number of friends listed, documentation few. Early Years. Any other information, social contact, relationships, or education will also be found in further pages.

There was no doubt these files were written by complete idiots. They fulfilled some of his questions but not all of them. He wanted to know more. Nothing in here about why she was kidnapped by the mob. The only value of its worth was the list. _Documentation few_? Try only two. But the two that were listed was enough to enrich his creative plannings. Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne. Surely there were more but these were in bold. They even included calendar dates. The oldest of course had to be the billionaire. But still, why would Gotham's top mobsters take her when they had no clue as to who she was? This girl who was probably unemployed, a playboy's childhood bunny, the new DA's college harlot and Rachel Dawes aka the PMS Queen of Gotham's relative. This is exactly what the mob probably asked themselves the moment they took her. They surely didn't know what they had. But he knew. This kind of gift only falls into his lap once. And there is no way he's going to give this opportunity up.

He did all he could to tend to her wound. Being alone with minion morons and being Gotham's most wanted criminal required one to have knowledge about aiding to such wounds. Wounds to the head was his specialty anyway. Besides, he couldn't damage already damaged goods.

This heat was too much. Shuffling my feet back and forth, the hot blanket came off. My head was throbbing. It was nothing new though, I could handle the headache. What I couldn't handle was trying to understand where I was. Sitting up, back to the headboard, it was so dark.

"Glad to see you're finally up and at em!" he yelled, rising from the small stool and leaping for the bed, landing right next to my feet. Still smiling brightly with a new sparkle present. He edged closer, taking off his sleek purple gloves one finger at a time. I watched him. The slow motion glove removal. White paper glowed noticeably behind his fingers. He moved to the next hand, taking his time just so he can savor the anxiety. But he read me wrong. I wasn't anxious rather uncertain of what was happening.

He laughed. I wanted to move away. He stopped. "Aren't you going to ask me _Renee_?" clicked his tongue at the end.

"My name-"

"Learned it from those papers you were just wondering about," edged closer, me responding with retreat. I didn't get very far the first attempt. He firmly placed his hand on the back of my neck.

"I know a lot more about you now. Probably more than you know about yourself," he licked his bottom lip vigorously. Taking a quick pause to sort out what he just said while picking up a handful of the papers. It was useless to move away, he would just bring me back. The purple gloves were set on top of each other next to my hand, I only just noticed when I brushed across the smooth material. My thumb swirling across its empty place. He sat back up with at least twenty pages smashed between his hands, some loose ones flying to the floor.

"There are still some things I have yet to discover that were not in these worthless papers," he came close. Even though his hand was no longer behind my neck, I stayed still. The closer he got, the more intimidating he wanted to be. But it wasn't working, even when his nose brushed against my cheek. I just shut my eyes. He leaned back, a menacing gander attached. I was getting to him and he was showing it. This is not how it's done. He flung the papers into the air.

Everyone else would have retreated to the wall as far back as they could possibly go. I stayed, even when he pushed it more with contact. Still, nothing. Didn't even twitch.

The black and white paint molded to his hard thinking. Cracks and openings were obviously present in the painted flaws. It looked as though it hadn't been renewed in a long time. The infamous scars were much more vivid amongst the rest.

What's wrong with this? I shouldn't be reacting in this way.

He must have given some type of drug while I slept. This was far from normal, I was leaning closer to him, to his face, his scars. They looked so painful, even if they had years of healing. What am I doing? But I released the crumbled sheet and kept going. And touched the closest scar.

He froze.

Staring, nonetheless, with as much threats and cruelty that it would not only stop me but prove a new method for his collection. But everything went away the moment I stared back and said. "These are actually kind of beautiful-"

Only now did he notice the bruised healing throbbing with fire, hidden lips were pulsating. The touch hurt. Those words hurt. Doing more damage than he would think such a thing could.

He jerked away with so much force, he almost tumbled to the floor. I nearly followed his action with how viciously he glared before taking off for the door.


	3. Starred

**.**

**3**

**Starred**

Everyone in Gotham, even the mob, would have known to never talk about, let alone touch! His scars. And look what I did. Even now I can feel the influence. Whatever he did, whatever he injected me with- I couldn't feel the pain anymore. The blood was gone. There was only dried remnants covering the wound. No needle marks in my arms, unless he applied something directly to the cut.

I shouldn't have fought back. Maybe I would have had more sense to be cautious if I wasn't so badly injured. Gambol only told his men to get me inside their SUV, he didn't tell them to bring out any weapons. We were heading to the meeting. They didn't want to leave me for fear of a rescue or escape. Batman had been more of a hardship than ever. I wouldn't have been able to escape myself. I didn't know how.

They were so rough. It would only be natural for the victim to hit one of them which held to be a mistake. Besides being struck by fists from the others, the one I had slapped brought out his knife. No one saw. I didn't have a chance. He was going for my cheek or forehead but someone pushed me towards him and thus the knife grazed my skull instead. They just stood there with me on the gravel, trying to figure out what happened. Gambol ordered them to hurry so they just threw me opposite of his seat and covered up the damage. I didn't even feel it until the van ride here. Delayed.

The bedsheets were already off, I needed to at the very least know where I was imprisoned despite the "medication's" side effects. Standing was a bit hard. It was useless. The first step I took led to slipping on the file papers. I slammed down hard, making the loudest boom surely heard by those outside.

And of course just then, the door opened. A shadowed figure stood under the arch. "Are you in here?" I froze. Not even to get the strands of hair out of my mouth. "Look if you don't talk girl, my boss is gonna get you himself. And I'm not supposed to go into his room. None of us are." _His _room?

He sighed dramatically. But I instantly perked up however, at the sound of a gun cocking. "I bet you can hear me now." Stand up! I crawled away from the paper. The light shone only upon my eyes as I did so. Just as he spotted them, he fired the gun. "Jesus woman!" and held his chest out of fear.

"What the hell are you doing!" someone yelled across the hall. "If you just shot her, you're gonna repeat such a noble act on yourself!"

He dropped the gun, held his head and rocked back and forth like a child would after being scolded. "I'm s-sorry boss, I won't- I won't do it again," he quietly said, knowing the Joker couldn't hear him. He slowly looked back up and jumped again. I stood before him. Childishly holding out his hand to me, I had no other choice but to take it. At the last moment, he struck forward and painfully dragged me out the door.

Thrown into a room, only one dusty window provided light. Few people were in here. Only three men. My feet being so sore, I went down, cradled whatever foot came first to see the damage. Where were my shoes? The Joker slapped his hand onto my toes and gave a big grin. But as soon as it came, it went just as fast. "Stand up," he stood dramatically as if to show how to do it. "Turn on the t.v. It should be on every channel. His ego is as big as Scarecrow's potato head," he laughed. The rest stayed quiet.

Harvey appeared on the screen. I brought my knees close, linking my hands together like a chain to keep them from slipping. The Joker was glued to the television, making it easy to stay on the floor without him knowing.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Gotham City, the reason why your programming has been interrupted is to address some very important issues that need to be brought to everyone's attention. For years, the mob has taken things we hold precious, things we never thought we could lose. And they've been able to get away with it. Until now. Renee Dawes has been taken hostage for almost a week. And I am speaking to you now out of this plea. This woman is a close friend of mine and I am far from being the only one," Harvey breathed in deep, staring to the podium before gazing even harder. "This message is for the ones who took her. We have heard nothing from you. There has been no ransom notes, no response, no hint of her safety, why? If there is no purpose to such an act than please, let her go-"

The Joker chuckled, walking to the screen. Each step with more bounce than the last. Harvey kept his tone steady but couldn't anymore. It was breaking. "If you have harmed her in anyway-" Rachel suddenly appeared, squeezing his arm reassuringly. She leaned into his ear and whispered something inaudible. Harvey nodded and slowly moved away from the microphones.

She motioned for someone else to walk over, the camera staying on her longer. Zooming in on her face. I squinted as if I was the one taking a closer look. Tear stains. Dark circles. She looked horrible. "Rachel," I whispered low. It was unjust for our last conversation to be of anger. I needed her now, I needed my sister. For years, we've told everyone we were only cousins, never closer. We didn't hold that bond. And now, I will never think so naively again.

The podium stayed empty until Bruce filled the space, sharply dressed in his usual vintage suit. I pulled myself up, avoiding the sharp stings sent through the soles. "My name is Bruce Wayne, some consider me the most powerful man in Gotham," the Joker snorted, only inches away from the screen. His eyes soon to be ruined if he gets any closer. "But I think otherwise. I didn't have the power to stop those men from taking my best friend. I wasn't there when they dragged her away from her life. When she needed me the most. I couldn't fight for her," he quietly spoke the last bit. But the microphones still caught it.

I was behind the Joker now. He doesn't notice. His arms were tightly crossed into his chest. Our distance was mere inches. "Renee," Bruce looked straight into the camera. I was already on him. "I need you to be brave, like you always are. Help is coming and it's coming soon." He walked out of the camera's range, determined.

The Joker punched the off button, a crack traveled through the rim. I'm too close to him, I need to back away. Before I could, he whipped around and slammed into me with so much force I couldn't find it in my lungs to breathe. Shouting orders to the few men still in the room, he threw me over his shoulders. I could only let my head hang.

Almost fell as he kicked a door open but he tightened his grip. Stopping in the middle of the room, flipping me off his shoulder, dropped onto a hard table. Punched the door shut and turned on bright lights.

Gazing down with an emotion I dare not read. He stroked his dry lips, blurring the red paint even more than it was. "You know," waved his finger. "I got to hand it to you," hopping on the table and laying down. Meeting face to face. "You've captured the hearts of two men. Two very powerful, important, dashing men. That deserves a gold star." He pressed his finger into my forehead, wiggling deeper and deeper. Moving my head back slightly. But quickly brought me back until his forehead rest against mine. His hot breath drifted like moving fog.

"If you ask me," he says, letting the air linger between us. "There's probably no more room in that little golden heart of yours, is there?"

He's trying to break me. Isn't that what deranged criminals do to women? How do I even react?

I can't.

He smiled, showing yellow teeth. White spots ran across the top row as if he tried to whiten them but failed miserably.

"I think you know what I'm talking about," his tongue almost swept across my lips from how close we were. "And I quote, 'you're actually kind of beautiful.' Said directly from that pretty little mouth of yours. Prove me wrong."

He was wrong, I didn't say those exact words. I said his scars were beautiful, not him. But his scars were a part of him. The Joker laughed, he meant to confuse me. You need to say something, just say something to make him understand. "I didn't mean-"

"Shu shh shh shh! My my my, you are a brave one aren't you? Your Brucey was right," he tapped his fingers on my cheek with more pressure, lifting his body and climbing on top of mine. Letting his weight go as he came down, only being supported by elbows. The dark asylum crazed raver continued to search through his ways of madness.


	4. Ace of Knaves

**.**

**4**

**Ace of Knaves**

"I think there's a lot of room in there. See, it's very simple really. You want me. No, you _need _me."

I couldn't breathe, let alone answer with all his weight suffocating one. He leaned in to say more, probably wanting a response. But a knock left him astray.

"What!"

The door opened. "Sorry Boss but you asked for this?"

An "oh" formed in his mouth and crawled away. Still on top until the last moment before landing firmly on the ground. I could breathe again. What am I going to do? One door, one table, no windows, I was trapped. "Sit up now Renee," a slight hinting.

Oh god, what do I do? What do I do! Look over the ceiling, close your eyes, cling to the edge, do something to stay down longer. "Sit up!" he roared. I was, visibly shaking.

He pushed a camera much too close. The red on-light blinking with abnormal speed to show its recording. "Look what I got!" He shout. "Jealous much? Don't you want be me right now? Say hello Renee, let's not be rude. Tell them how much you gagged at such a disgusting display of acting skills. They'll do just about anything to get some air time huh? Using your situation as an obvious excuse to get some attention. How sad! Come now, I know that's what you were thinking."

Where is he taking this? He's going to punish me for their pleas. Will they see this? Will all of Gotham see this?

"Please-"

He thrust the camera over his shoulder so his face could be seen next to mine. "Oh don't mind her. She's just one brave little cookie, aren't you?" and twist the camera back around to zoom in on my arms as if he wanted to imply strong muscles. There were none, only thick shaking tree branches. "But you already knew that didn't you Mr. Wayne," turned to only him. "I sincerely hope all three of you are watching this together because this video here," covered the lens with his finger. "It's meant to be seen by her _family,_" he snorts. "And you, Miss Dawes, nicely done on the preparation. You went a little heavy on the eyeliner. Theatrical black tears. Take it from someone who knows, you did a horrible job. Let's see if the critique agrees?"

Camera on me. Don't encourage this, even if it's the last time you can talk to them. He stared but then turned on his heel and walked across the bright room. Stopping in front of a metal cabinet. He placed the camera on top of it, just at the perfect height.

Making sure it's zoomed into the spot he wanted, he turned back around and swaggered closer. Stopping right before the table, his back blocking the camera's view. "I've been very patient with you. More than I have ever been with anyone," breathe. Breathe deep, breathe slow. "And all of this patience is driving me insane!" I jumped, retreating further across the table. He noticed and stopped it. Grabbing my legs and sliding me back to him. Positioning each leg so it looked like I was straddling him.

His hand, still gloveless, reaches inside his pant pocket, bringing out one of his favorite knives. The Cupid 3.0 OTF automatic switchblade. Ironic name, Cupid, the meaning he holds it for is entirely contradictory.

Bruising each leg. He smiled, lowering his head to make his eyes viciously daring. Lifting the blade up to my lips, pressing it on the side. A small scream was brought out. He sparkled, satisfaction, shivering dramatically and smiling even wider.

"Ah, yes. I knew your scream would make me feel like this. Now," the knife mirrored the red paint with a pale smile adjacent his. "The punchline has been long overdue don't you think? After all, the battery is running low on the camera." Speaking of the camera, he moved away from its view. His focus fixated on my black sweater.

Rubbing his chin as if he were in deep thought then shakes his head. "This certainly won't do." I nearly toppled over the edge as he tore at it with his bare hands. The buttons ripped everywhere, rolling across the tiles in splice. He flung it over his shoulder and sadly stared down. I followed and saw the black tank top. Oh thank god. But he stopped that relief, placing the blade under one of the spaghetti straps.

"Please don't," I begged.

He lift the knife.

Something's not right.

And instead forcefully pushed down to the tabletop. Laying flat, helplessly waiting for what he's about to do. He jumped onto the surface and waved the knife at the camera. "I would like you all to know you forced this upon her._ Not me__."_

No, not this, I've never, oh god! Do something!

He grabbed my right shoulder, rubbed the skin hard. Then before I could fight, he pressed the knife deep. Ripping in a straight line. All there is to say such screaming has never been heard so loudly by those in the same building, only rooms away. I couldn't stop, I've never experienced this kind of pain. The only cuts I've ever had were paper cuts. Skin parted ways, blood streaming onto the cold table, slowly seeping over to his newly cleaned pants.

He moved in a different direction, now slicing the skin straight down. "Stop! Oh god please stop!" I was crying so hard, so painstakingly heavy. "IT HURTS! PLEASE! The camera!" He was peeling flesh from bone.

"That's the point sweetheart!" he screamed in the same pitch. The blade took a break, rubies still dripping along its edge and onto my shirt. He pitied his tongue."Tsk, tsk, tsk. Even if you're being cut open you still care about your precious audience. Some would admire your loyalty. We're just going to have to bleed that right out of you. Such a useless quality, lollipop."

I tried to reach for his hand but he narrowed his gaze in annoyance as if I were a puppy sharply nibbling on his finger. Our hands brushed, he jerked away, pushing mine into my stomach.

"Almost done."

Putting more pressure than necessary, he made the final touches. Another scream mixed with sobbing tremors practically shred my throat into burning paper. Both my legs and left arm shook ravenously with seizure tendencies. He finished, taking a moment to stare. "I don't see what all the fuss is about. Now your arm matches your hair. I always did love the color red." He slid from the table, wiping the steel on his sleeve. Making his way over to the camera. With one last smile. "She's mine now," he edged closer. "I'll make sure you get to see my masterpiece soon, don't you worry. It has an artistic future I think." The camera powered down.


	5. Soap Suffocation

**.**

**5**

**Soap Suffocation**

Water flowed from a high shower faucet, crouched in a bathtub. Staring in awe upon this half naked form. Nothing but a black bra and blue underwear. Did he undress me? Of course he did. Oh god! Oh god this hurts!

Warm water hit the new wound like a moving bullet. I screamed. The wound screamed back. "You looked like you needed a shower!" a voice just outside the doors. I clasped the wall and slid up.

His shadow covered the entire bath. The illumination of naked skin within his sight. He laughed. "Seeing as though the mob had you for so long, you probably didn't shower in days-"

"What did you do to my arm?" I've had enough. There was something here, I felt the edges but it was crusted.

"Oh my. Somebody's grumpy," his shadow shimmered closer and closer until he slid the door open. I yelped in surprise and retreated, behind the streaming water.

He stepped in. Shoeless, gloveless and coatless. Things were getting serious. "I'll just have to show you won't I?" Was that meant to be seductive? I crossed over the areas I really didn't want shown. Does this other door open? No.

Just as I thought he would advance forward, the window seal caught his attention. Placing his hands on top, blindly feeling for what he wanted. "Ah, here it is," and brought down a bottle of shampoo. The label fazed a brand, John Frieda's Radiant Red.

"Like I said before you passed out from that delicious gift, I have a thing for red heads," he motioned a finger. I coiled against the wall more. He lowered his hand and stared gravely. "This isn't for me. They didn't have Gorgeous Green, so you either come to me freely or I'll come to you."

I wasn't going to move. And he knew it.

He reached for his shirt. Lifted it over head and slapped it to the floor. One step forward, slamming me against the side wall. His face so close as the water poured. "Be a good girl," he squirt the liquid onto his palm. Rubbing them together and scrubbing it into my hair.

Avoid it, just stand perfectly still, dig your nails into the tiles, wait this out. But this felt, so good. He was right, I hadn't showered in, awhile. Just not here. Not like this. I shut them close, don't move, just don't- what is he doing? His fingers were skimming over the cut, barely touching. They open and watch him proudly stare. As quietly and unoffensive as I could. "What is it?"

A very quick answer. "To show who owns that pretty little arm of yours and everything else attached. First initial so artistically carved into you. A perfect slanted J."

Why would he want this?

He finished the shampoo, readjusted the water to target the soap and washed it all out, most of it. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to clean myself as well." He put the bottle away and reached for soap. Rubbing into his own hair, leaving me behind the water to watch, remnants stinging my eyes even more. But it all cleared and I was free to see again. Only to watch him rid of the paint via the water. Does he realize what he's doing?

The paint flowed over his neck, chest, trailing along his stomach. Losing speed as it slowed up and down his abdomen. Ending the journey at his belt. It's stuck, white, black and red gathered into a small puddle above the buckle. He was watching, obviously thinking I was ogling him. Oh god. He raised his hand. I thought he was going to strike or something so I couldn't help but to. "No!" Mistake.

"You know I was just going to hand the soap to you but now that you did that. I think it'd be best if I wash you myself," the soap flew and he flipped me to the wall. Pressing his body hard against mine. Leaving just enough space for him to wash, my stomach?

Breathe! Just breathe as little as possible. Pray he won't go any lower or higher, I want this to stop. I want this to stop! He leaned into my hair, smelling its new scent, lingering by my neck. "Delicious."

One unbalanced whimper left and met the steam with more volume than it was supposed to. He stopped just above the belly button, I froze. Did he take that the wrong way? Yes. He turned me back around to the shocking tiles. "Now now, you don't have to hide your feelings from me. You see, you're going to be here a very very long time. You'll have plenty of time to gather that courageous heart of yours and admit how much you care for me." Switched again, smacking my head into the wall. He eased up slightly, must have been an unintentional move. "Better get you all cleaned and pretty because we're going on a little trip," he whispered. "You're going to deliver the video we just made to your dear friends."

This time, I met him. He stared blankly. "You're letting me go?"

He cackled loud enough to shatter the glass. "Too much water in your ears? Of course I'm not! My marking you would have been for nothing otherwise."

He started cleaning himself again as if nothing happened. Rubbing the soap along his collar bone, spreading it across his shoulders. The paint was gone. Eyes locked onto him like a curious toddler. He doesn't see. In fact, I don't think he's even realized what he's done yet. This was the real Joker, the man behind the infamous mask. No detail left unseen. Clear skin, pink lips, average eyebrows, slanted nose, strong jawline but the scars. Oh god, the scars were even more vivid without the red covering them. There were more below his lips. One that looked like a turned _Y._

The right side was perfectly formed into a half smile, curved up with just the right twist. The other looked like it was done quickly. No smile curve was present, just one giant wound. Scars didn't normally hold interest but it was the fact that they were _his _scars that _he _made. With so many different stories attached. It just did something to me. Something I forgot.

He snatched my wrist. "I'm sorry!" Don't hurt me.

"Touch them."

I pulled back, he let it but kept the same expression. I shook no, crossing the line even more. "If you're so fascinated by them, then touch!"

I did, running along its texture, not stopping until the very tip of the curved smile. He watched. Keeping his body still until he felt the end. Then he grabbed my hand and restrained it against the wall. Grabbing the other and doing the same. He held both above us with one strong hand. His traveled along my bra strap. Picking it up, dragging his fingers beneath the elastic and stopping just before the coverage began.

It was right there. He was so close, he could have gone further, could have ripped it right off like he did my shirt. But he just kept his hold there yet brought the material out further to reveal the deathly white tint of skin. His devilish gaze did the rest, leaning his head into my neck, releasing one of my arms. It dangled lifelessly to our side. I had to lift my chin excessively to keep from colliding our heads. The soaking mane of green locks now pressed firmly into the curve of my neck. It was almost like he was trying to look down my _shirt_ but in his own way. Leaning like a child would his mother when something terrible happened, wanting to hide their faces from the world. What is this? He just stayed there. The awkward taste of his scent flowing in and out.

And then, he leaned away with such fierceness, I practically went with him as if we were attached. He didn't look, didn't give any clue as to what just happened. He only kicked the shower handle. The water stopped with sudden chills. Shivering to bring warmth. It never works.

The door bounced off the other end. He stepped out, grabbed a nearby towel and threw it at me. Landed perfectly on my shoulder.

"Get out."

I already was. Standing before him. Thinking straight was far from any skill I held.

The bathroom was bare, wallpaper stripping off, filthy floor. A pile of clothes was wadded on top of the sink counter. "Put those on." He faced the other direction. Still not moving, and glanced over his shoulder to see if I was following his command. I walked to the counter and grabbed the material. Is he going to watch? He crossed his arms, muscles clearly showing themselves with no shirt to hide behind.

The material dropped until stopping only inches from the floor. A dress. A _purple_ cotton dress none other. I lowered it to see his expression but he already left the room. I was scared. Not just about what the incident had held for both him and myself. I didn't know what to think, what to feel.

The fear of seeing Bruce, seeing Rachel, Harvey. How can I do this? It didn't matter. He was going to force this until the end.


	6. Thy Chattel

**.**

**6**

**Thy Chattel**

To the side, he still held the determination, clutching the wheel tightly. The streets zoomed by infinite blurs of gray and white. Just like it did when he first took me from the mob. At least I wasn't injured now. Instead I was in a very comfortable, yet beautiful dress. Marie Antoinette could wear this, in the garden, playing with baby lambs. This is good. Keep doing this. Calming thoughts need to set the far-from-panicking mood. Stay calm, stay alert, everything will be fine. They were corrupted by horrible images of the clowns shooting everyone. How could I even keep going if they were killed, become of me? And that stupid, naïve, idiotic fight.

I couldn't.

With one quick turn into the entrance, I smacked my head into the car window. Black swarms of dark ants cloud over. Time seemed to quicken. The Joker soon yanked the door open without making sure I wasn't leaning into it. Fell right through. "Oh!" he caught me. The strength I tried to keep was slapped the moment the window slapped back. "Can't pass out on me yet. The fun hasn't even started! And you're a lot heavier than your tight pants let you think."

"I'm not wearing pants." What did I say?

"I've noticed," he readjusted his grip to keep the dress from showing anything. Sounds a little off but why else would he take the effort to do so? No one was near the parking garage. He didn't have the free hand to push the elevator.

I already did. He merely grunted while I wrapped around his neck for better support. I didn't want to fall. Enough bruises have been given. The moment I did so though, he stiffened. Not expecting such cooperation like this. Neither did I.

Once the doors binged, he stepped in, set me down and I crawled straight for the wall. The cold would feel good. And it did. A sensation giving both refreshment and relief. He leaned to the side, pulling my temple away. No, don't do that. Each purple hand placed firmly against my cheeks, forcing a gaze. "We must be coherent now. So wakey wakey." Mild, yet exaggerated slaps followed. He was holding back from how rough he would normally hit but this wasn't helping any of us.

I could only squint and groan. He just set off another headache. The pounding wasn't leaving even with the rocking. "My head hurts," I need to just stop. To shut up and wait for this day to be over. But I didn't have to, he took me back. And, out of nowhere, starts rubbing into the ache. I nearly jerked from how he was portraying. All his focus was on ridding the pain. The elevator opened. He dropped his hands, took mine and dragged us out before the door closed.

A long hallway painted with professional designs. I had to blink a couple of times to realize the headache was gone. I stared in awe. "Now," he didn't acknowledge the reaction. "You go down there, the last door on the right and that's where you'll find them."

He fiddled with my dress sleeve. "How do you know?" and yanked the material, torn to shreds, to the ground. He probably had it made this way.

"There! Now they can see," still not answering, he pushed in the direction the room was. "Go, I'll get you when the time's right. Oh!" We almost smacked together. "Don't forget your souvenir." He put the heavy tape into my palm and squeezed to make a tight grip. I wanted to say something but he forced forward before disappearing. I could run, the temptation was great but I had nowhere to go. He would find me at the apartment, he knows where everyone lives. There was only one choice.

The door was here, its cold knob awaiting the turn. If I go in there, I won't come back out. Willingly.

The door glided as if expecting a visitor. But it was through my doing, not anyone behind the object. I squeezed through and stepped softly onto the Persian rug. Nobody noticed. Harvey sat on a white couch, head buried in his hands. Completely still. Rachel and Bruce were standing by the window in deep conversation. Perfect, I need to stay hidden. Can't be pulled into them yet. It'll be too much, not now, I need time. The kitchen entrance and there on the other side, I listened.

"I told you, I'm getting her back _my_ way," Bruce clutched the window frame.

Rachel rubbed her arms in anguish. "Please don't. What if something happens?"

"Nothing happens to Batman. Everything will be fine. I won't stop until she's safe."

"No, we need to think of something else. It's my fault the mob took her, this is my doing. Don't shake your head at me. You know it's true. I won't let you risk your life for my mistake. I can't lose both of you in the same week!" she grabbed his shoulders. "This Joker guy is stronger than you think."

"I won't let him have her!" Bruce yelled back with more anger than he wanted to show.

"Enough!" Harvey shot from the couch. "I want her just as safe as you do but we can't solve this by letting some theatrical creature, who knows nothing about her, go after the Joker blindfolded. This is too personal to let Batman do it."

Rachel looked to Bruce knowing. He avoided them both, stripping his leather jacket. Alfred appeared, took his coat and put it on a hanger. "If I may say something Master Bruce?" who merely nodded in return. "I've known Renee ever since you and her were creating mayhem in your room with tent forts. After all those years of watching you two grow up, side by side, I can tell you one thing: she can take care of herself. You know this. Yes, we'll have to get her back and doing so means being smart. Research, investigate, sing, dance, every detail must be exact. It involves more than you think."

"I know. We just, we need to be smarter. To have an unbreakable plan," he combed through his dark hair. Alfred touched his shoulder for encouragement and left with proud strides.

"We need to dig up everything we can get on the Joker-" Harvey tried to explain how to do so when Bruce put his hand on his shoulder. He leaned back to brush it away but stopped after seeing.

He stared in awe, mouth breaking into a tight line, the others had to follow. Standing under the doorway, fidgeting with tight fingers, so very close to overheating by dangerous degrees. Watching them. I can't let this go.

"Renee?" Bruce came closer, stopping as soon as he grabbed my shoulder as if I were a vision. Oh god! He squeezed the wound. I yelped in pain, cringing from the contact. It wasn't a severe grip but it took enough to quake its vulnerability. He let go, examining every pigment to pinpoint why. He found it. "What did he do to you?"

"I-I can't stay, it's only-" He crashed harder and tighter. Anxiously accepting with all I had, we embraced. I want to stay. I want to stay attached to this man. I've never wanted something so much. This is much too hard. He leaned back, glued to the hideous evidence. Grinding his lips in anger.

"I'll kill him."

"Renee-" Rachel met our sight. Harvey was just behind, fixated. She stepped in, her hair bouncing on the side. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I did this to you, I did this to my only sister. You're all I have left, we're the last of our family and what we did, we should have never- I should have listened, I should have done something to stop you from walking out that door." I shook my head. "No! Don't do that. Don't make this any easier for me, I don't deserve your sympathy."

She tried to pull in but I had to stop her. I was heating up. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. This is, I can't stay-"

"What do you mean?" Harvey rubbed Rachel's arm kindly. I hurt her. "You can't stay? Hey look at me," he closed in, lifting my chin. It's been years since we last spoke, last stood before each other. His very presence nearly left me fazed by old memories. His old habits were stirring. I did look right into those blue diamonds. I missed him, it was obvious but his grasp wasn't what I wanted. He can't do this again. "You're staying here, you're safe now. Since graduation-" he stopped from actually speaking of it.

Don't let them see how much you're shaking. Pull away, step into the kitchen, reach for the video, hold it out to them, let it go. They stared while Rachel created a place between them, making her own observation. I held it out to her, turning away from its cruel reminder. She took it, unsure, and read the bold writing on the top. "Thy Chattel?" she read. I met her. Just as they were about to ask what it meant, where it came from, why I was tearing up, a huge raucous exploded in the hallway, guns shooting, banging on doors, yelling, screaming.

No, I want more time!

"Rachel!" I took her face. "I forgive you. I forgive us. You're my sister and I will always love you." She held tight, fearful of what was happening.

I pushed away and grabbed Harvey. "Don't do anything to damage what time has done for us. Don't bring old ghosts back."

He wrapped tighter, leaned closer. "I will do whatever it takes to keep you from harm." I tried to move away but he kept us still. "We're not going through that again."

Loud banging. Everyone turned to the door. No! No one's getting hurt for something like this. I'm not going to let this happen. I moved towards the noise. Unable to face Bruce let alone speak to him. But he had other plans: yanked me into his chest, practically lifted off the floor, pulled us away and into another room. He yelled for the others to hide before slamming us in. Slapping his hand on my mouth. I tried to let go but he's just too strong. The door opened, Harvey stepped inside, wedging a chair into the doorknob. Just enough to do what he didn't want, I spoke loud. "Where's Rachel!"

"She's hiding with Alfred."

Bruce left, sprinting to a tall window, scoping our escape route. Not much hope was there. We were too high. "Bruce?" Harvey whispered. He didn't answer. "Renee?" I bit my lip hard, this wasn't going to turn out good. The _J _started to burn. What have I done? I should have run, I should have just thrown that video into the room and ran. "Hey," Harvey covered my hand which had subconsciously placed itself over the cut. "He won't get you."

I reached for his face. He doesn't understand. "I hope you're right."

The front door banged alive with men rushing in, guns going off to alert their arrival. "Time to go home darling!"


	7. Plunging Fever

**.**

**7**

**Plunging Fever**

They knocked over furniture, broke glass, laughed hysterically. Why weren't they coming in? Harvey joined Bruce, dropped the video to the floor, rushed to the window, slid it open and quietly leaned his head out. Looking down and observing the side of the building. They looked to each other. I just watched, my back to the door. Waiting for the Joker to reach in. The video was staring, a little of my blood still stained the object.

Bruce blocked it. "I need you to do exactly what I tell you," he whispered. I nodded, entirely distraught. Harvey held out his hand, hinting as to what they wanted. A lamp was thrown into the wall. Soon more fragile pieces were plunged even harder. Why were they pulling me?

Wait, what?

"No, definitely not," out the window? Are they insane!

"If you can survive all that time with the Joker, you can do anything," Bruce pulled again. I stood my ground, feet planted. There has to be another way. I can't do this!

"No you guys! What do you expect me to do?" I twirled out of their grasp and almost slammed into the cabinet.

How have they not found us yet when we're making all this noise?

"There's a scaffolding out there only three windows down to the left. The ledge is big enough to walk straight down."

Huge eyes. Begging him not to do this. He sighed, kissed my cheek and stepped onto the ledge.

I charged after him. "Don't!" But he slipped through and started for the scaffolding. I fell into the seal, reaching out for him to come back. But he gracefully made his way across the ledge with an encouraging smile. I whipped around and ran smack into Harvey's chest.

One of the men outside laugh hysterically. The Joker's own overpowers theirs with a sing-song voice. "We know where you're hiding and if you don't come out now, we'll come in there!"

I stared but Harvey was already helping me onto the ledge. I held him strong. My dress, hair, everything just flew up from the wind. Hair was blinding, dress was nearly showing. This is not going to work. The massive red mane swung just enough to see Bruce. He kept one hand on the scaffolding and the other to me.

Harvey let go. I couldn't move to look for the fear of losing balance was too great. I tried to hold on to something new. Nothing. The spaces between each cement wasn't enough. Two steps will not get us to safety. I'm not nearly as close as I should be. "Keep your eyes on me! Just keep your eyes right here," most focus was. "That's good, you're doing great." Another step and the wind starts blowing harder. I stopped. "No, no, no! Come on Renee, you can do it!"

One at a time and I can be closer to him. Temperature and body ached with torment, something was coming over. Lifting my foot, I was seeing double of the same thing. Something is definitely coming over. I lost focus and thus, balance. My foot missed the ledge. I collapsed. "NO!" Harvey and Bruce both yelled.

Right half nearly dangled from the building, waving at the tiny cars driving by and small specks of people.

"Stay there! I'll come to you!" Harvey yelled. He _was _closer. He'll get here and walk us over to Bruce. Everything will be fine. Until the wind picked up again with more vigor and aggression. It's blowing so hard. I can't hang on, there's nothing to hang onto!

Bruce and I met in fear. He shook his head, closing his fist as if it would help stop the wind. "Bruce!" No no no no! The wind swirled and started to slide. I screamed, they screamed, the wind screamed. I couldn't hear their voices, I was too full of a pounding heart. One last blow, I fell completely.

Grabbed the edge. Legs spread apart, unsure of what to do with themselves. Harvey quickened his pace but it was too late. Mere fingers can't do this kind of pressure. I slipped right off and felt nothing. Nothing came, nothing stayed. In fact, I no longer felt the violent turbulence nor the wind's cruel blow. Because I was faced with red paint morphed into a giant smile. Sweeping across skin and lips to cover self-inflicted scars. Half out, half in by the Joker's arms. He caught me. How?

"Nice to see you falling for other men," slight annoyance and relief in his voice.

I let go. Let go of fighting, let go of muscles and collapsed into him. "Now that you've said your goodbyes, which went rather off I might add, we have other things to attend to," over his shoulder I went. I don't feel right. "Let's go boys!"

The clowns cheered and hoot, swinging their guns onto their own shoulders to mimic their boss' actions. One of them, with pure brown teeth, glided in step with him. "Boss?" he asked, looking to and fro. "Um.. shouldn't we just leave her here? I mean, after all the trouble she's putting us through I just think-" Whatever happened to him was not a promotion but I couldn't see. A thick haze, pounding beat struck every perception. We reached the elevator with him nearly smacking my head into the wall as he whipped around. "Would you press the button? My hands are a little full right now and I know how much you like doing it."

No movement, he bounced to inspire a reaction. I groaned louder but he kept doing it. It's not going to hold any longer. And it didn't. Threw up all over the floor. He glanced behind and cringed in disgust. "Great! I let you out of the house and you go and catch some bug! Simon," he called. Someone stepped up. "Press the button." A massive clown maneuvered around us and does so. Stepping over the mess. "Help me wit her. I don't want another repeat so we're not standing in puke in there." Rough hands grabbed hold and lifted up so the Joker could turn around. He made his arms ready, I was lowered into them. Smoothly and gently. How strong was this guy?

Admiring the little flaws the fresh paint had on his face. The red was so vivid and lively, you could mistake it for a poisoned apple. Like the one from Snow White. Yes, I have a fever, the delirium is clear. I'm burning, dizzy and helpless. The worst place to feel this way. In the arms of my captor. "Hold her legs." He did so, not going higher than the knees. The Joker took the tip of his middle finger into his mouth, bit off his glove and placed the back of his hand onto my forehead with it still in his mouth. First he was annoyed than he looked rather disturbed. He spat out the glove, which landed on my stomach. "Too hot." The elevator rang. The men piled in. But it just took one of the Joker's long glares to have them scramble out. He jerked me into his own arms and swaggered inside.

He has got to be fed up with carrying me. I'm not a light weight. Why doesn't he let someone else do it? Like Simon?

I moved over his forgotten glove. Something to do other than remember how hot my head felt or how badly I wanted to throw up again. But if I did, it would be all over the Joker. And I doubt he has the patience for this kind of thing. "And I know exactly what brought this on!" he thinks aloud. "The reunion, the invasion, everything. Their fault! Making you climb out a window! The only one qualified enough to make you do that is me. They don't acquire the skill for such a persuasive act. If it _were _me, you wouldn't be with a hot head after."

The men crashed through the stairway soon after we came out. He doesn't acknowledge them, just the garage for a van appearing in that moment. Spinning past the cars, stopping right before plummeting into a cement wall. "Simon!" How many times has he said that man's name? "You're driving."

He threw the current driver to the ground. Everyone piled into the back, a few stood behind to help get me into the passenger's side. One of them opened the door while the other held on so the Joker could step in first.

This guy smelled like body odor. "Give her here," he reached to make it easier. The guy didn't even need to lift a finger. I pushed him away and stepped up myself. Clinging to the top of the van for support. I was doing pretty good, until I collapsed into his lap from the state I was in. It doesn't faze him though, he simply shut the door and used his arms for a belt. "Drive as smoothly and quickly as you can. Get us out of here without making this one sick. Go!"


	8. Hooded Henchman

**.**

**8**

**Hooded Henchman**

Sweat poured, resist the urge to release an empty stomach onto this hard seat. The Joker's cold, wet hands held everything still. It may have seemed like he's helping but I wanted to shift around so horribly. The constant motion mixed with this kind of feeling would not be the brightest thing, but it just made it better.

"Will you shut up about it!" someone yelled, smacking his opponent.

"Keep it down back there morons!" he barked, jerking me forward as a result. Okay, we need to pull over. Just please make this van stop.

"Uh, Boss?" they sharply whispered, trying their best not to agitate him more. But they still needed him to respond.

I couldn't see what he was doing but felt a growl tremor in his chest. Skin pale as the moon, body shaking like a rattle. Please don't move, I need him to stay still, no more movement please! But they wouldn't shut up and obviously wanted him to deal with whatever it was. He placed his palms beneath my neck, scoot himself out, stood, lowered me against the seat and then jumped to the back where he abused the person who yelled. How did he do that? I didn't feel a thing. This craft was obviously radiating between him and the, Simon.

"You! Go up front and hold her while I deal with this."

A couple of moments passed before someone lifted, hopped over and lowered us both into the same position the Joker was in before.

Why would he do that? I was fine without being held.

An expensive scent hovered above before entering, filling senses with the intoxicating smell. What is this? They smoothed the array of my tangled and tragic locks as if it were a completely natural thing to do.

If only to glare at him for thinking he knew me well enough to perform such a nurturing gesture, I had to see. A hooded man, his face covered in shadows peered down just as I peered up. "You're not getting away from me that easily," he whispered.

The hood pulled back just enough to see the shadows of his face. "Bruce?" I worded. He nodded, smiled but hid it as the Joker returned over the seat. Landing between my ankles. There wasn't room to sit so he slid them around as if they were soccer balls. Getting them in the right position, he plopped and fixed his hair. Taken aback that I was staring.

He stretched long until he hovered. "Well look who's joined the living. How hot are you?" cold hand slapped onto the clammy forehead, his fingers spread across my hairline like spiders. Lips sucked into his mouth while the black makeup squinted in knowledge. "Mmmm, still hot! Alright let's get you back to bed shall we?"

He looked to Bruce.

He doesn't move.

We watched the material from Bruce's shirt twitch, he tightened around. And the venomous glare of iced fire only intimidated more. Anyone else would have pushed me right into him but Bruce didn't budge. "Don't make me say it again," his throat rumbled.

With much difficulty, I made the move before any could react. Crawled right over to him. Bruce almost didn't let me but he knew what its purpose was. This wasn't going to end badly. Not with me here, he can't be seen nor can he be noticed. The purple coat gorged over the purple dress, my being pressed deeper into his chest, his heart. Accidental yet purposeful. I just needed to find something of a stable rhythm to help sleep comfort this nausea. "Get in the back with the others."

Bruce stayed but moved all the same, gracefully where the other henchmen sat.

Simon put the parking break on and turned off the engine. We were back.

They were out long before they were told, pushing each other, laughing with delight. Simon waited a moment longer before walking across the front and opening the passenger side. The Joker climbed first, hastily reaching back in to grab my waist. Without any trouble still, he slid me right into his rather comforting style. Moved us through all the noise, ignoring everyone's shouts, yells and happy hoots.

Where is he? Bruce? Nothing, I was anything but capable of spotting him in the big blur of clown masks and black clothing.

Another door opened, we went inside, he shut it with his foot. And once again, I was back here. The bed, oh the bed, I didn't care whose it was, I wanted it now. He granted it, practically tore the sheets into shreds before bringing them down. Then looking around the room for something. He squinted in the dimness but doesn't turn on a light. He found it. Stepping on his shoe's heels, kicking them under the bed and walking to the bathroom door, he left.

Why are these sheets wet? The sound of water ran and a few mumblings echoed.

It was me. I was making the sheets wet.

Grinding teeth against my inner cheek, chewing off little pieces and swallowing them. I do this when I'm sick, mouth has a mind of its own. It either bites its cheek, grazes the tongue against the top or the bottom jaw slides around until the movement isolates itself. The bathroom door slammed into the plaster, he staggered in, carrying a black bag and dripping washcloth. "I'm all the doctor you'll ever need you know. You learn how to take care of yourself in my line of work." Iced washcloth met head on.

The sudden chill whimpered through the fever, body was shutting down, I felt it, and I accepted it. Took one last look to him circling the bed. It was hard to see; he was no longer glowing. There was no white paint nor red or black. It was just him, the hidden suitor beneath.

~ Ԓ~

Grim vulnerability crawled through his mind. A mixture he hated but yet he craved more. The annoying and ridiculous things this girl brought up. Most were such a burden but there was a tiny pothole which scared him enough to lose. The shower was one thing, but this, this was gnawing, rigging, breaking.

And there she was, soaking his sheets with a high fever.

He sunk further into the mattress. Going down to his side, supporting his head to watch her breathing.

He injected her with medicine, but she was too out of it to notice the sanitized needle puncturing through.

Her heat warmed her more than necessary. Even with the sickness, she always seemed to heat his own. Her gaze was shut tight, green trapped under moist lids. She never noticed, well, she never understood, but he would lean in close just so he could see the color intensify with the help of his vest.

His scars, beautiful? An incredible lie. All, including him, looked to his scars as violence, hate, self-infliction. But she saw them, wrong. It may have been the many treatments he's performed on her which would alter perception. But, in the shower, she wasn't on anything, only on him. And she touched them. She didn't have to, he merely threatened her, commanded her, but she did so with child-like view.

She rolled to her side, now facing him. The edge of the washcloth falling but he fixed it before she could flinch from its loss. Her lashed were practically marking the fragile skin below, closed so tight. He saw the torment.

How long was it that he craved her scream? To hear it from her mouth, watch its splendor over her and yet, now he didn't like this? It was only a brief illness, from the excitement, but he didn't like it.

He was changing, he knew it. He could feel it.

Yet he was the same and would stay the same. Wanted the world to crumble from the chaos he would help create. Push people to who they truly were. Beneath the skeletal surface.

The only thing that truly changed was his demeanor towards her.

He fell to _the _arm and winced, the scar was hidden beneath blankets. But the memory wasn't. _He _did that to her, of course he did, he needed to. But she didn't bend to its purpose. She didn't break. Lost hope maybe but she didn't change.

Shivers formed through her lips, quivering from the heat. She was fighting the virus. Faster with his help.

He leaned further into the pillow, gathered her arm, to create warmth.

She stopped trembling, even relaxed slightly but was still disturbed. Probably from knowing who was touching her. But he didn't care. The jacket came off first then the green vest, unbuttoning it with vigor. Lastly the tie and blue undershirt. Everything was off, except the pants which were staying on.

He didn't wait, he placed his hand between her breasts, to feel her breathe. If she were to stop then he would know. Other than this logical healthy precaution of course, he may have been a proud psychopathic, mass murdering, schizophrenic clown with zero empathy, but he was still a man.

_-Quote from Heath Ledger (& me for the 'proud' add-in haha) in the New York Times 07._


	9. Vigilant Rouge

**.**

**9**

**Vigilant Rouge**

Something heavy and thick is on my chest.

The fever had wiped the memory up until the dimmed face. Without makeup, just him.

And now, there was something leaning into the right, breath. A cluster of hair blocked a way from seeing. A full head of green curly hair.

He's asleep and not exactly respecting personal space. It was almost like he was listening to my heartbeat but his position spoke differently.

This was beyond the expectancy rate for enduring hostage duties. Wait, it was gone. The fever was gone. Fastest recovery I had ever experienced, hands down. What did he do?

He nestled deeper, somewhat grazing against- I need to move. This was impenetrably awkward. What's going to happen when he wakes up?

Someone answered, pounding on the door. The Joker jumped, used my stomach for weary support. He looked before ending on me. We stared. The pounding grew louder. Only for him to answer back, rolled over, scrambled to his feet and raced for the noise.

The sleeve slid off even more from the haste movement. It had been so long since I remember putting it on, let alone him tearing it off. A loud splitting smack cracked the emptiness. He punched them, hard. Broke it. "If you wake me like that again, I'll do more than just damaging your nose. Now what do you want!"'

They mumbled something, his nasal blocked by wrenching pain. The Joker whispered quite sharply which led straight to dilated pupils. Making sure he amended his speech. "The new supplies are here and we need you to-"

"Yea, yea, I know. Get Simon to start and tell him I'll be out soon," he slammed it, whipped over and before I could utter anything, he was already smothering mouth and face. Licking his lips, squinting in delight. "Told you I was all the doctor you'd ever need." He knelt before the bed and rest his chin. "Now, I have no intention of leaving you alone in here because you never know when that fever will creep up on you again," extravagant hand movements. Twisting them around until they lay bare in front. Lifting us up.

I didn't stay so and wobbled, which only made him respond attentively. He caught sight of the attire. Shaking his head disapprovingly. "There are lots of men out there and with you in that outfit." He pushed me back onto the bed, the springs bouncing joyously for the return. I nearly slid right off if I hadn't clung to the mattress, not the blankets, but the actual mattress. I was still in bad shape. He left the bathroom open.

Grabbing a pile of material inside a crooked cabinet, he examined his reflection. Coming to a halt, staring at himself a bit longer and dropping the clothes to the floor. Opens the mirror to reveal a variety of face paint. Ranging from dark red to black to cloud white. All randomly thrown in together. The black came out first.

It seems he forgot.

Whether I was his victim or not, I wanted to watch. I shouldn't, I shouldn't even think of it but I did and I moved. Leaned into the door frame after the clumsy and difficult walk here. But I was glued to him. So glued as to take no notice to the sleeve descent. The extreme skin color difference was exposed, just above the worn bra. Didn't know, I was on him. The black was almost done. Its paint was slapped on rather than careful strokes.

He dunk into the black liquid, outlined his left eye, over it lid then circled his permanent dark circles. I was entering his territory without permission. I couldn't help it. The other foot followed and kept going.

The eyes were done, not as perfect as they usual were but still finished the job. He fiddled with the cap and sloppily screwed it back on the bottle. Tossing it into the medicine cabinet. Without looking, he already held the next bottle. But stopped and stared as if he were thinking what color it would turn out on his skin. Quite simply, he just thew it in the trash.

The label read _Dark Red_.

While his right ventured through the cabinet, his left stayed by his side with a mind of its own. Half of the fingers were bent while the others were moving as if they were playing the piano. They stopped when he found the right one.

The paint streaked over his lips like water, the focus, to conceal the scars with as much layers as possible.

I went down slowly but stepped on a creak. Freeze!

His lips half covered by _Bright Red_, he stared.

"If you're going to be here, you might as well make yourself useful," he reached into the cabinet, pulled out a white bottle. "Here," and held it out.

Serious?

"If you don't-"

I took the bottle and unscrewed it. He looked to the mirror, repositioning himself to make it easier. We stood adjacent. He didn't lay a boundary, didn't exert threats or violence. It was alright. Dipping into the paint, breathe in.

Before doing anything, I let him finish the other side of his lips. He ended the very tip of his scar and stopped. Shouldn't he have put the white on before the lips? Cover the face, then eyes then mouth?

The red washed under the steady faucet. It was my turn. Smoothing the white around the outer part of his ear. He smacked the water off and grabbed my wrist. Oh no! I thought- Did I do it wrong? But he kept the same expression, merely turned so we faced each other straight on. I swallowed. Just go slow. He was fixated.

I worked across his forehead, leaving hair from its path.

I was wrong. I thought the shower and this morning's waking was beyond insanity but this is a new level of-

Now the nose. This was the closest I would have to come to looking at his eyes. He was watching, observing my own skin, admiring the color, looking over the few freckles I had. Don't falter, just keep going, unsteady breaths.

Before long, I was brushing the paint over his strong jaw line. Enhancing its strength, tight line and muscular essence. This was his most seductive feature. What did I just- _Seductive_? Just stop this, you're shaking now, just stop and let him do the rest.

Despite the punishing conscious, in terms of a literary description, it was perfect. The way I was smoothing the paint on, the movement to cover his skin. Even before he wanted me to take over, he was intoxicating. Each brush, sweep and swirl. It's just like how men describe how they feel when they watch women put on their makeup. It turns something on deep inside their bods and all they can think about is-

I stopped, washing the remnants of that very thought down the drain. What am I doing? He was the Joker, insane, a loss soul. Who do I think I am? I'm helping him create this archetype for how the world portrays his demeanor with terror and uncertainty. I moved away, retreated for escape. He watched silently. Staying on me a bit longer before turning the faucet on. Cupping his hand, collecting the water and weaving it through his hair. Messing in an almost windswept way. A shy, erotic gasp escaped, I couldn't breathe. He was gorgeous.

"Put those on. When you're done, come out." He flickered to the sleeve, the revealing nature of it. But looked away fast, he saw his _J._ The crowd of men ceased what they were doing as he entered the halls.

- - _the link on profile pg for Chapter 9 reveals the Joker's windswept appearance - -_


	10. Tragically Perfect

**.**

**10**

**Tragically Perfect**

The long, grotesque hallway. Echoes from rowdy men organizing dynamite and propane tanks. One light shined ahead.

Something was holding back. Something I couldn't get, yet knew it was a name. A name?

They were all into their merchandise, toys of mayhem. Except him. One person in the dense crowd noticed. A hooded figure, away from the others. He stared from what I could tell under the shadow. What is this? For all that's happened, for the sake of a sound mind, I wanted to rip the hood off and feast upon who he was. To get an ounce of sanity. To see what this was.

Still patients of Arkham Asylum blurred, was this the Joker's way of unique hostage styling? One can only hope not to end up like them but why is this effecting me? He was coming closer. As was I. Avoiding the random explosives, feet and guns. But of course, keeping your eyes on an object and not watching where you're stepping may lead to a-

Hard collision. Over someone's foot and landed flat. Breathing in the gun powder.

"Hey!"

Where was he? A huge, heavy weight was suddenly pushed off. Now facing flat on the floor with his head next to money bags. Being slightly embarrassed, he sprung up.

A hand shoved in front only to lift me in the air. Slammed right into their stone chest, a protective grab?

"You'll regret that!"

Before the one who nearly attacked could charge, a gun fired, into his ribcage. Everyone was watching, some cowering into the wall, most just waiting in fear and excitement to see what he'll do.

I dug into his jacket. Into the scented hoodie, breathing in. In the van. Bruce? He turned around wearily, but touched my face nonetheless. As if he sensed I knew who he was now. It was him. Oh god- He can't be here- The Joker-

"Excuse me?" was only staring for now. "That was quite a courageous act you did there," he moved closer as if to give us a hug. But instead pulled me away and snaked his arms, so tight. Almost lifting from the floor as if it would duplicate his own move. The gun was on him. "Don't ever do it again."

They stared, the Joker moving away, Bruce standing his ground and me, being dragged as usual.

Throwing the gun on the table, he plopped us both onto hard chairs and looked for something. I stayed on Bruce, silent pleas for him to leave. He didn't get them.

The Joker stood, took my hand in his just before doing so. "If any of you perform any similar acts towards this one, you'll end up just like him!" They nodded, avoiding his gaze, some were laughing. "You'll have a bullet residing in your worthless brains if you even brush against her!" He squeezed with each word but let go and scooted closer. "Keep working!" Those still staring moved fast, a few fell but quickly recovered and threw themselves back to the propane tanks. "Hey," he hissed, guiding us together. There it is again. That one thing, that small ounce of tact in his expressions. I stood before him.

Only for him to push again, sliding the chair closer to him and grabbing possessively. "Stay." A dog would have glued their tails to the floor. I wasn't one.

My jaw tightened, I was driving his patience, he was practically digging his nails into my palm. More of a demanding silence than a threatening one. But the closer he leaned, the closer he could see where I was looking. The image of Bruce's form glimmering in the corner. Someone would need very sharp vision to- but he did. He saw.

Before he could understand exactly what he was seeing, I flickered to him and stood again. He was close- but I didn't give him a chance. "Why are you doing this?" quiet at first. "Why are you doing this!" They stopped, he was already one me. "Is this a game to you? To keep me here? What makes you think you have that kind of power? What makes you think I will let you do this!" He stood as well.

"All of these mind games, it's like- it's like its completely natural for you to screw with people! Wait, I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, what am I saying? It _is _natural for you! What are you trying to be! Caring or mean? Violent or soft? For the love of God, choose already! End this now or let it go!"

His attention was full, lips were relaxed, steady and quiet. A few men gasped, they've never seen him react like this for anyone. This was when he'd reach for an ax or knife, drive it through their throat, enjoy each second.

He looked to them, with nails of command. Another shift again. They already knew what to do, scrambled for the hall, for their rooms. Except one. Bruce lagged behind, transfixed on us with complete vigilance until disappearing along with the others.

You'd think he'd have whiplash by now with how fast he snapped his neck. He moved forward. I retreated, slamming my leg into the chair before leaving into an open doorway.

Didn't get far.

He picked me up from the back. I kicked the door, wall, frame, pole, anything that would make it hard for him. But it does nothing. He slid his feet between mine after successfully planting my own on the floor, we went down.

"Now that," he breathed. "Was an accident. If you hadn't fought, we would still be standing and I wouldn't be on top of you while you're under me in pain." He peered down, taking a minute to notice the irony. "Although-"

"Answer the question," venom of my own mixture finally met his.

Black blending with white, stern brow.

"You're really something aren't you?"

"Answer me!"

"I'm terribly sorry, what was your question again?"

"Why are you doing this? Why me?"

He smiled, showing all teeth. "You already know the answer to that."

This was exhausting. Head fell back, another ache.

He crawled, resting on top. Does he like this region or does he do this to all his hostages? Break them with close contact or an emotional tactic. For the rather small amount of time since Gotham was first introduced, never have I heard of him taking a woman hostage. "Hmm, your heart is thumping like crazy. Tell me," he rose. "Is that for me or the hooded Bruce Wayne?"

He does know.

Comatose was the answer. For that is because nothing was willing to obey.

He doesn't let up, he knows why. Rolled over, on his knees, he stared. Watching them fall harder with mild splashes along my collarbone.

I curled into a shivering ball. Laying straight was too painful. There was nothing. No emotion, no more tears. He slid his legs along the floor and made himself right at home. Now in the line of vision, he supported the large tangle of green with the back of his hand and waited until I would look at him.

I already was. Locked on his fresh face, looking for any mistakes I made. Any spots leftover. There were none. It was perfect, tragically so.

"Are you going to hurt him?" chapped lips stuck together.

He slid me across the slick floor and into his chest. I created a barrier between us, leaving enough space to keep breathing without being under the influence of his smothering self.

"No, I have something better for your hero."

"Let him go, keep me, but let him go. You said you were going to kill him if he ever tried anything. I can't-"

"You must have bumped your head harder than I thought. I said I would do worse than just killing him. That's too easy."


	11. Open Arms

**.**

**11**

**Open Arms**

This is how I've been. He left, thought I was asleep or something. He didn't pick me up, didn't drag me to his room because I'd push him away. Hasn't stopped him before but this time, he didn't fight.

I was useless, hopeless but not alone.

No. The Joker was sitting by the table, tapping metal and staring into nothing.

Palms down on the cold dirty floor. Debris rolling beneath. This is disgusting.

He was still there, only staring at the floor now. What would he do if I just got up, started for the empty halls? Just do it. Slowly stretch to see if they were truly empty. They were, everyone was too scared to come out or make any noise that would piss the Joker off more. If he was angry. It was quiet.

Just small steps leading into another, that's all I'm asking for. No movement. Pulling all the coarse, sticky hair of mine to one shoulder, he was still there, hands on each knee, sitting straight, a statue.

Hasn't moved at all. Is he testing something?

Start walking, it's not that big of a deal. If he grabs you, fine. Pass the chair, just pass the chair- Where is he? The chair's empty.

"If you're thinking of going to see your hero, that would be unwise," directly behind. I grasped the door frame only to be pulled away from it. With no other bruises added. It's hard to imagine he can do the most violent and drastic things with such delicacy.

"I was going to your room!" Don't yell.

He separated us.

His gaze narrowed in a mock tone. Then he filled with laughter. Clutching his sides almost from the intensity.

How dare he.

This is not meant to be funny. How could this be funny? Even to him?

I didn't wait for it to end though, I charged, passed the open rooms.

A light shone through a slit of one, closed door. I nearly slid into the wall from the obvious answer.

"Don't you dare!" his voice traveled. "Renee!" he was sprinting, wobbling with viciousness.

The door swung open, Bruce on the other side. I yelped as soon as he grabbed my wrist, pulled inside, slammed the door and locked it. The Joker pound, kicked, threw himself against it, trying so hard to get inside. It wasn't working.

"Bruce? I- you're-?"

He pulled us together. "I couldn't let him take you. I went after the clowns in the stairway, punched one out and stole his clothing. I'm getting us out of this."

"No Bruce, you don't understand. It's like he'll never give me up. Ever. He-" continued to pound on the door. Getting nowhere.

"He'll never have you!" using the back of his throat with scratches added.

"We-" where's my voice? "We need to find a way to get _you_ out," He stopped the shakes, brought both hands upon each hip and pressed his own strength over.

"If I leave, you leave," he couldn't have been more clear, yet so wrong.

"You need to understand!" I shook him away, forcing the shirt off the shoulder. He followed the move, almost losing control of his stable diligence. "It's like I'm _his_ now, Bruce. Do you not get it? In his mind, I belong to him. All of me. This, this J carved into my flesh. It will always be there, he will always be there."

"Renee," he doesn't get it. "You're not his slave. Staying with this maniacal beast is not your life. This is not what you deserve, understand that! Understand that I can't leave without you!"

"Please-"

"No!"

"Listen-"

"No, you're not-"

"No! Listen, he's not trying to get in anymore," I grabbed him but he slipped out. Towards the door. "Don't."

There's no escape. A window was it. Very high, very unlikely.

He leaned closer, ear jammed into the wood, trying to hear through. "He's not out there. Wait, there's someone-"

Faint footsteps were outside, almost as if they were circling. What is he doing? Someone else ran too before colliding into the one circling. They whisper. Bruce pressed his palm on the door but as soon as he touched it, the faster he backed away. Pushing and smacking right into me. Throwing us to the floor as a loud BANG blew the door into splinters.

Before long, he's dragged away and met by a trembling fist. Hands on the floor, hair wildly resting in every direction. "Stop!" But the Joker slammed him into the wall with acquired strength.

"Let's see how your beautiful high-end people will react to your new look," he switched his knife open. "When I'm done with you."

I crashed onto his back, kicked the wall and forced him away. He struggled but I still took him down. But as soon as we hit the floor, he freed himself. Until I slammed down on top of his. Bringing his chest to the floor with my knees pinning it down.

Bruce gasped for air but briskly recovered. "No!"

"Let him up!"

"This is your only chance to leave!" I yelled. The Joker still fighting underneath. I squeezed his wrists and pressed them harder to the floor.

Why is he letting me do this? He was so much stronger, he could easily push me off.

Bruce shout over us, now to the side, fists ready. "Get away from him-"

Who stopped fighting and was currently staring at us. What was he-? There it is, another message I could instantly read, _You do it and I'll follow through with what I said before._

"No Bruce. You need to leave. Don't fight him, please!"

"Why are you doing this!"

"I love you!" voice cracked, tears dropped to the Joker's neckline. His blue collar absorbed like a sponge, turning the material a darker blue. "Please, please just leave. I can't- He's- You have to trust me, I'm doing this for you."

He has to leave, he'll die if he stays.

Having the last say of course, the Joker tilts his focus so there's a direct line to Bruce. "If you leave and never, _never_ come back for her," almost lost my grip. "Your pretty little life will keep floating along like it always has. No one will stop you, no one will follow."

He's lying. He can never muster up this kind of lead way. He was planning something.


	12. Independent Film

**.**

**12**

**Independent Film**

"Looks like he made his choice. You know, if I were him, I would have picked you right up and beat the shit out of me-"

"I told him to go. You were going to hurt him," we were hunched over the edge, him exaggerating my own form. "Why did you do it?"

"I thought you'd know better than to ask me the _why _questions."

"Why did you let him go like that?"

"Why do you think?" he asked, reverse psychology. All those psych doctors he's probably had, he finally gets the chance to use it on someone else.

"Just tell me!"

Licking his dry paint-ridden lips. "Hmm, well, you see lollipop, you're not as tough as you think you are. No, no, _no _giving me those questionable puppy eyes. You know what I'm taking about. You'd be this dangerous, vulnerable little thing with a very deep deep depression if I did anything to your precious boy toy. Not the fun kind but the annoying kind that just makes you wanna kill yourself. But that's _my _hobby, not yours. So, for obvious reasons, this was something I shouldn't screw with. I mean really, what fun would you be? Can't have you going all suicidal on me. What would I do without you then? Get a stuffed animal the same size as you? I don't think so! You're my blankey. Can't go anywhere without it, can't sleep without it, you're already stained by my saliva. You're a keeper!" fingers danced in rainbows. "So, your sweet Brucey's imagination can run wild now! As it should since it'll be your reality. I know, I know, let's get the point out shall we? The next time _any _of your deranged heroes come waltzing in for you. I won't be so merciful."

I don't know how I understood but I did. In Joker translation: he let Bruce go because he actually cares for me.

Is this even possible?

For someone like him to reopen their cobwebbed heart. To let someone else into their complex lair.

I was speechless, didn't even notice his leave.

"Simon!" he shout.

A few moments pass and large, heavy stomps arrived. Simon nodded all the while intently listening on what his boss wanted. I couldn't hear but sometimes Simon would step to the side so he could see me while the Joker conversed as if he wanted him to do so.

A blinking light flashed from the desk table, bright blue numbers. The clock. He had a clock? After all that's happened, time seemed to be the last thing- 1:30 AM. No wonder I felt so uncontrollably useless.

Slowly dropping, the rest of the aching body followed. The mattress bounced. Let this day fade. They continued to whisper what I'm not allowed to hear apparently. I didn't care, I wanted to forget.

_He had to leave. The Joker would have lost control and I would have lost him._

_He's keeping me. This simple idea was now a terrifying fact._

Door slammed, he kicked his shoes off and crawled onto the bed. No, not the bed. Me. He was crawling on me. As soon as his feet rest down by mine, he collapsed. Pushing me and the mattress lower. He sighed loudly, warm breath blowing across.

"Go to sleep," he whispered, rolling slightly to the side, now with only half his body still on.

I already was. Straight into the REM long before he told me to.

_An evil green goblin who wanted to corrupt the world with his trickery, captured the vulnerable red phoenix. But this bird was already in love with the black bat who became so loss, so enraged of the green goblin taking his love away that he flew to the goblin's lair. Hovering by the window, the bat peered into his quarters, spotting his love with the goblin sleeping tenderly in bed. She turned on her side, cuddling closer to the goblin. She wasn't fighting, wasn't distancing herself, she was embracing this creature the same way she used to with him. Her emerald eyes opened, spotting the bat outside the window. She tried to get up, but the goblin wrapped his slimy arms around her, tightly keeping her in place. "No," she mumbled, pushing herself away. But the goblin was too strong. "No!" she screamed louder for him but the bat faded into the shadows. The bird cawed his name. Louder and louder, echoing through the empty room. But it could never reach past the glass. He never returns._

"No!" A fairy tale turned nightmare. The worst kind. Sweat cascaded, even a few tears were stuck. My damp hands roughly began rubbing the water off. Giving each swipe more pressure than the last. Pretty soon the rubbing turned to slaps, pouring out with each one. It turns so intense that another pair of hands grabbed them. Stopping the tantrum from going further.

But that didn't stop the sobbing. Harder and louder. It's no wonder I haven't acted like this before.

Hands turned to arms and his arms turned to snakes, smothering me into his chest. Like the dream. The dirty shirt absorbing the wetness just like yesterday. "Shh!" rather aggressively. Was that supposed to inspire obedience? I sobbed even louder.

My life is ruined. The green goblin has full possession of it. And he will always have.

"Renee," a loud voice erupted inside distant speakers. "You're leaving that place, you're going home no matter what it takes. Do you hear me clown!" Where was this coming from? I know this voice. Before the Joker could stop, I was charging out the door, pushing through the halls and sliding across the floor to see Harvey's face on the Flat screen.

His boyish blond hair, bright blue eyes and chiseled chin was paused. The camera held at arm's length, sitting in a bare room. He was obviously directing this himself. Without Rachel's knowledge.

The clown with the remote tilted to look. But as soon as he saw who it was, realizing I wasn't his boss, he let out a relieved sigh. I stared at him, ready to pounce. Simon snuck close, fixated on my stature. But before he could reach out, I went straight for the remote, tackling him to the ground.

"Give it to me!" I screamed. He doesn't. Switching from one hand to the next, I tried to grab it. But he just smiled a toothless grin, widely excited for the attention. That was enough. I was trembling, hand gathered, into a fist. And before I knew it, was brought right into his face. Cracking his jaw bones. He yelled out, dropped the remote and clutched his jaw. I crawled for it, remote in hand, looking for the play button.

It's so dark in here! Simon appeared, grabbing my waist.

"She broke my jaw! That stupid bitch broke my jaw!"

Simon deeply stared, lips still unmoving. Only not for me but for him.

"Move out of the way Sasquatch!" he shout, only inches from his towering bod.

"What did I just tell all of you! Was I not clear enough!" With a slight twitch of the Joker's sudden appearance, he reached into his coat pocket, switched the blade open and landed between the clown's thick brows.

I hid deep into his muscular shoulder blade, squeezing the noise out. I never meant for him to die, I just wanted the remote. Just wanted to hear what Harvey had to say. Simon moved away and turned around. Observing the guilt clearly stained with fear. He stared and that's all he needed to do. There was just something about him that made me feel, calm. He didn't speak or move, just stared.

"Drag him out to the dumpsters." Two men were already grabbing onto his arms and feet. "And Simon!" One look and they both understood. "Got it?"

He nodded. Still not speaking. What was that?

The play button clearly presented itself through the new morning light. Grazing across the smooth surface, just putting pressure on the rubbery dimple, he grabbed it.

"Where did this tape come from?" he pointed vigorously to the TV.

He looked to Simon who motioned towards another man, standing in the corner. "Me," they announce. Walking into visibility, stopping just under the light. Blue stare.

Harvey?

Slow mode happened.

I pushed past Simon, brushing through the crowd. Running straight for him. No! Oh god no! What is he doing here! The same thing won't happen twice. He needs to leave! He needs to leave now!

Before jumping for him, the Joker caught mid air. I pounded his spine, screamed with assertion. Harvey's shouts reaching high as well, he tried to get to me but Simon stopped him with a gun.

"You know what to do."

"No Simon! PLEASE! Don't touch him! Don't hurt him!"

He's not listening. Knocked him right out. And he collapsed right there, right as I dangled from the Joker's broad width.


	13. Maniacal Trance

**.**

**13**

**Maniacal Trance**

"You said you wouldn't hurt- You said- Let me down!" Each fist crashing harder and harder, meeting his cackling laughter in the same pitch.

Laughing to himself?

Was he enjoying this? Was I some form of entertainment!

Putting more force into the next punches, he flipped me over onto a hard couch. At that moment, Simon walked in with Harvey dragging behind.

"What did you do to him!"

A new knife covered in bright, clean steel sprung from within. "We're going to play the Tell-Joker-Everything-He-Wants-to-Know Game."

He grabbed a handful of Harvey's blonde locks and roughly leaned his head back. His neck dangerously exposed. He brought the knife so close, pressing firmly.

I sprung from the couch, only to be caught and pushed right back down. "Stay my little contestant, stay. Now," he's not giving slack. "First question: why did you and Rachel stop talking after college?" Presses knife harder. Harvey screamed, still out of it from the beating.

"STOP! God, please stop!" I collapsed to the floor. A tiny opening was made, blood rolling into his shirt.

"Answer the question and I'll ease up."

"Harvey-"

He screamed louder, the Joker ripped horizontally. "I'm afraid he can't hear you. Now answer!"

"I-I don't know," how could I think straight?

The knife eased but moved to Harvey's face instead. Simon jerked his head down, he stared, blue eyes vividly bloodshot.

"Alright!" I screamed. "Rachel always had feelings for Harvey in school but she was torn between Bruce as well. We were all so close as children, her and Bruce especially. She didn't know what to do. The day before graduation, she chose Harvey and decided to tell him that night. Divulge her love to him. But when she finally told him, Harvey-"

"How do you know all this happened?" he spat.

"She told me when we-"

"Fine, fine. Continue."

"Harvey, he- he told Rachel he didn't feel the same. Not for her, for someone else-" choked. "She was so lost, confused and angry. We got into an argument. Now please- please just stop! You're hurting him!"

"Ah, so the mystery is solved."

Harvey, full of unbearable misery, was soon filled with greater fear. The Joker took something else out. I tried to lean in to grab his hand, to give him comfort but- "No, no, no. We don't touch," he flickered it on: a lighter.

I can't breathe.

"What are you doing?" eyes frightfully large.

He looked to me as if I should know. "I figure since this next question will take a lot more persuasion than the last one, might as well be prepared." The small fire danced above its metal holder. Simon left to grab something behind a table. Harvey leaned his battered bod into his knees, still fixated.

"Don't do this, please, please, I'm begging you! If you actually care-"

"You always get what I say MIXED up don't you?" outrageous hand twitching. Harvey tried crawling, to touch my hand. But before I even knew what he was doing, the Joker grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him to the same spot. "STAY!" he growled, glancing over his shoulder. "Simon! Hurry up, he's getting anxious."

"Harvey," I whispered. "Every thing's going to be okay. We're going to be okay. He won't hurt you, I won't let him," He looked away, knowing what I just said was very close to a lie. "Why did you come?" lcracked, dry and so horribly desperate. Simon dragged a canteen of kerosene, unscrewing the top and handing it to the Joker.

He wasn't paying attention, too busy playing with the lighter for intimidation. Simon nudged the canteen against his shoulder. "Oh good. Now, next question," taking the kerosene, he kneeled, closely observing his face, looking for something. He spot it with an oblong lip.

The oil tipped over, consuming Harvey's face. He tries to move but Simon restrains him. Choking on the gasoline, struggling to get air.

"STOP! Can't you see he's choking!"

The last drop came after the venomous poison was already spread, he threw the empty tank across the room. "As I was saying," clears throat. "Do you, little Renee, have the- how did you put it? _Same feelings_ for Harvey Dent as he so obviously has for you?"

How can he do this? Not now. How can he ask this?

I can't answer.

He knew that, flicked the lighter open once again. Moving it extremely close to his cheekbone.

"Stop!" holding out my arms to nothing, body twitching, wanting to rip the lighter away. He stared back, urging with the slightest movement. "I hate you," I truly did.

He doesn't change. He wanted to know and he was going to get what he wanted with or without Harvey here.

"I do love him," this time his muscles pulsated and eyelids twitched. "Just not the way he wants me to," and returned to normal.

It was there but I couldn't witness his heart breaking. But there was no choice when the room was filled with his screams of horrific agony. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" I threw myself into the Joker. Simon caught me. "NO! HARVEY! OH GOD STOP!"

He lost it. He lost that control. That tiny speck of control he managed to hold onto until now. It means nothing.

From the Joker to Harvey, fighting for his life beneath the devouring fire, I put everything into fighting but Simon was a rock. Nothing could pry these arms open. I couldn't move, couldn't think but could scream the one thing I knew would stop him. "JACK!" His name.

And it worked, snapped him from this maniacal trance. He stared but soon realizes what he had done. Ripped his coat off, covered Harvey's already scorched face and patted it down to only smoke.


	14. Too Dangerous a Consequence

**.**

**14**

**Too Dangerous a Consequence**

Completely silent, no movement. Harvey lay still on the floor, scorched and close to death. I hid from him, from seeing the reality of what just happened. I break his heart, the Joker ignites it with a lighter. I should be punished, punished for doing this.

"Get him out of here," not a hint of regret.

I thought when he let Bruce go, with concern, that he had somehow changed, a small change. Clawed away from the beast's stronghold but this just proves that it may very well be impossible.

"Where are you taking him?" Simon lift Harvey, almost gentle-like yet very aware. Carefully placing him on top of his broad shoulder. "Please answer me."

He left. Leaving without an answer, without a life force, without anything. But I went with them, in an awkward sprint, heading towards the door, the only direction I could think of going. The only one that made sense. Once again, he caught that intent by the waist. We faced each other and that was it. I lost. Fists crashed into his chest, punching the area where his heart should be. Screaming for the misery he's caused. Hurting me in every way possible.

"I hate you! I hate you! You bastard!" Bruise in large welts. I hope it happens. I hope this hurt like hell. Right across his chest. We'll both be carrying marks from each other.

He let me, just stood there, staring with the most blank reaction. I couldn't even tell if I was hurting him. So I collapsed.

He knelt, taking both shoulders, firmly holding us still.

What else could he possible want?

"One more question."

…

Was he serious?

"Why were you with the mob when I first met you?"

He is.

As if I had the strength to escape. Might as well use words.

"What is wrong with you?" I spat.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he snorts.

"You want me to keep playing your game as if everything is normal? As if you didn't just set Harvey on fire!"

He nods, one brow lifted to enhance the serious nature.

I can't do this.

The ceiling is the only thing worth watching now. No reaction as he scraped my hand up into his. "Just that one last question and you can go into whatever coma you're going into. I won't stop you, I won't even touch."

No response. It was useless to even try, all the energy was gone and there's no way it's ever coming back.

And he knew it. But he wanted to know. And I was the only one who could give him what he wanted.

A few moments of dreaded silence passed, he stared at the seared mark on the floor. Finding the push. "Other than that very generous proposition I just laid out for you, here's another. One that I'm sure you'll be giddy for." I blinked. "If you answer the question, I'll let you see that raisin again before I take you away."

"Take me away?"

He jumped. "Ah, she speaks! Yes, take you away from Gotham. Don't get too excited, nothing exotic. Not even completely out of Gotham's border. My heart can't bare leaving it. It's a perfect new section no one knows about. Only for us."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Uh, I think you already know the answer to that. Now! Since you asked two questions already and I patiently answered them, it's time for you to answer mine."

Silence.

"Perhaps I should repeat the question. Why was little Renee with the mob when I first saw her lovely bleeding face?"

Give him what he wants. "I wanted to put aside our differences and talk to Rachel."

"Okay okay, we're getting somewhere-"

"I wanted my sister back. So I went to her apartment, wet and cold from the rain. She let me in. At first she agreed we should forget about what happened. But something else changed. I ran from the building, through Gotham. Didn't know what time it was. Didn't know it was so late. Ran into an alley, the mob was doing business and they caught me."

"What did you fight about?"

Good god! It can't stay like this for much longer.

There's no hiding now. "Please-"

"Answer me Renee," he squeezed as hard as he could.

Just tell him. Blurt it out, do whatever you can and let the tiny specks of black consume your sight. Just tell him!

"We fought about Bruce."

"Why?" he pushed.

Say it! Its already clouding over. Say it before you pass out!

"He proposed to me."


	15. Don't Try that Again

**.**

**15**

**Don't Try that Again**

A trail of dried blood, it couldn't be? Bruce jumped to its other side. Hiding in the shadows. Watching the huge guard carry Harvey outside. What did they do to him? His face was covered in white rags, dripping with body fluids.

Bruce had only just arrived, knocked few men out, mapped a straight pathway and found her position in less than two minutes. They've only been apart for the night but that was enough to send him into a frenzy. Gathering the weapons and materials he needed. How did Harvey even find this place?

He followed.

He ignored the instinct and kept going. Damn it. He should have done something. And now Harvey was obviously extremely injured.

Edging along the wall with trained footing, he reached the corner. He could feel the end. Just as he was about to step out, a chair flew from a room and crashed into the wall. Someone shout aggressively, stomped and hunched over in self pity.

Bruce moved behind the wall, listening intently.

A few other men charged to the noise. "Boss! Boss! Is everything okay, we heard this huge-" They couldn't finish, instead, there was gurgling sounds.

The Joker held the poor man by his collarbone, jerking something back to his side. Soon after, the guy fell straight to the floor. He had plunged the knife into his neck without any hesitation. One twitch of the outlined eye, the other ran the opposite way and threw himself into a random room. Bruce watched as the Joker stood very still for a good amount of time, just breathing. His body following each breath with a violent jerk or shake. His fists clenching and unclenching in a constant rhythm.

He howled then, kicking the wall. "FUCK!" A tiny crack split the torn wallpaper, traveling further up.

Bruce edged closer, still hidden in the shadows. Avoiding the sun's rays that fell through the doorless rooms. Should he attack or find her. If Harvey was hurt, was she also?

"The fuck does he think he is!" he spat, ignoring the fact that everyone could hear him. He glanced over his shoulder, staring into the room.

Bruce stopped. The way he was staring. What was he looking at? He changed. Yet was interrupted by a creak in the floor.

He froze.

The Joker tensed up but didn't investigate, someone moaned inside the room. Whimpering in pain and confusion. He took one last look down the hallway before leaving it empty.

I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead.

After what I just did, there's no living past this. Why did I tell him! I could have lied. Done something! Now he knows what happened. I'm surprised he didn't just plunge the knife into my heart. What's he going to do now that he knows I'm engaged to Bruce? Taken already by another man. Isn't that why he's keeping me here, with him?

Vivid lights seeped under my lashes so the swirls can dance inside. I had only been gone a few moments ago. If only I stayed down longer. Anything to avoid facing him. He'll kill me. No matter what I've done in the past, no matter what he did, he'll lose it all. Murder me. Burn me alive just like he did Harvey.

Harvey?

If only to find out where he took him, to know he's somewhere safe, taken care of, I had to stay alive.

Bad decision. Shut your eyes shut your eyes! The lights are too much to suddenly wake again. It stings! Moaning followed after. It hurt too much to scream.

I knew this would happen. I knew after all he's done, it would weaken me to the point of not even moving. The moaning increases to fulfill the pain level. Rough hands collect mine, I know who they belong to.

They slid unto my spine, lifting upright, head spinning. Blocking out any person, shadow, light or object away. The designs stop dancing and I can no longer watch them. He shaded the light away. Deciding where he was going to stab me. Where was the most efficient way to kill someone? That's exactly what he's thinking.

But no, this can't happen yet. I need to know where Harvey is. Am I ready to face him though?

"Jack?"

There's my answer. Brace for the knife.

"Hmm?"

He responded.

Probably trying to buy time to switch the blade open and make sure his hands do their magic. But he doesn't move. They stay where they are.

"Where's Harvey?"

Silence.

Alright then. I would like my body to be cremated. And if it's possible-

"Hospital."

Flashed open. Trailing across his perfect suit, pass his tie, jaw, lips, nose and finally to his eyes. The stillness before the storm.

"No control." What did I say?

He opened his mouth to agree, understanding what I meant before I even could. But I shut it, wiggling from his arms, crawling on hands and knees and finally using the rather shaking vertebrae to stand.

"What are you doing?"

Stumbling over to the wall, I leaned my throbbing head into it. Breaths bouncing off the ugly paper and back into my own face, warming it with a soothing atmosphere. "What are _you _doing?" More with impatience.

"Standing here away from you. What do you think I'm doing? Smelling the wallpaper?" snapped again. It's not just the fainting that's made me this way.

"Actually, that's exactly what I thought," he laughed.

Spine now flat against the wall, narrowing my gaze the same way he does. Menacing with a splash of hidden rage. "I want you to take me to Harvey. Right now."

It was his turn. He slowly rose from the floor almost mirroring when Kyle Reese first appeared in The Terminator. Slow, seductive, strong and dangerous.

This wasn't a movie, this was happening now.


	16. Feels So Good

**.**

**16**

**Feels so Good**

Both of his toned arms now blocked any chance for escape. His body pressed so hard, I couldn't breathe without matching his own lungs.

"You're not going anywhere," throat clogged with rage. A cowardly hostage crumbling beneath his hold. "Gotham General is caring for Mister Dent. That, my sweet, was the last time you'd ever see him again."

He trailed the edge of my chin in smooth circles. "Oh my," he frowned. "You've been very very stressed haven't you?" He reached into his pocket, nodding his head as he brought out the knife. Shaking harder, breathing stopped, perspiration plummeted. "Oh shush shush shh, just look."

The clean blade stopped. Catching the dimmed reflection bouncing off the mirrored image. Dark circles, trails of faint pink bumps along my chin. Acne. Where it comes out the most, where all the things I worry about, the stress, everything goes directly to. Hair in mild waves, uncontrollable waves. Not beautiful but there was a slight tinge of shine illuminating off the dull strands. I was a mess.

"Don't tell me I caused that little breakout down there?" he chuckled, leaned the knife against the wall. It snapped shut with an echoed switch. "Now, before we go any further, you called me by a certain name?"

Pressed body closer, blocking air supply. "Say it," he ordered. I shook no. "Go on."

Naively shaking again, he leaned closer and shout. "Say it!"

"Jack!"

He let it echo. "Again."

What is he doing?

Lowering it this time. "Jack."

He bit his bottom lip. "I haven't heard anyone call me that in a long time, such memories you bring- Don't ever do it again. But since we're on this subject, I mean, we've spent all this time together and I never heard you call for me or anything. _The Joker _is so, informal is it not?" extravagant rainbows and piano playing. "That needs to change. So pick a name."

There's something wrong here. This is a trap, this has to be a trap.

"I don't-" he snapped his finger.

"Good choice! Jack it is. But you can only address me by said name when we're alone. Not around anyone else, just you and me, no one else, yes? You have a very skilled way of convincing so I'm granting you this little-shall we say-gift between us. There's just something about it coming from that ravishing mouth of yours that makes me feel _so _good."

"That's not the only thing that's going to feel good," before we could look, Batman threw him across the floor. Just as he hit the tiles, my legs gave out.

He punched him hard, bones cracking along the way. Knocking him completely down. Batman's muscles shining through the sculptured black suit. He stayed on the floor, laughing with a hysterical tint. A long needle filled with translucent liquid appeared in his black glove, plunging it through the Joker's shirt and skin, the liquid entered. Reaction was instant. He went limp.

I was next. He scoped up, around, clutched rather tight and sent us into the hall.

I know what he wants and I'm more than willing to do it but I can't move. His black ears pointed for a clear exit. And then charged for it without acknowledging the kind of condition his damsel seemed to be in. I tripped over everything, he glided perfectly.

"Hey!" the guards shout, collecting their guns in a bothersome manner. "Let her go!"

They fire, missing us but coming too close. He reached in his utility belt, grabbed two throwing stars shaped like bats with silver linings. And flung them in their direction. Splitting their chance for another fire, they fell.

Just beyond, the Joker stumbled from the room, clinging to the walls for support. "You're dead! Do you hear me! You take her and you're dead!"

The brightness slapped hard. I haven't seen such light in so long. He was already gathering me close with a loud engine roaring after. It zoomed towards us with incredible speed. It stopped, the door swung open. He placed me inside before crawling to the other side and swiftly jumping in.

"Close doors," he ordered. They did so. We ripped the street for a fleeting escape.

He rubbed his shoulder in pain. But lift his hand back to the wheel. Blood dripping to his legs.

"You're hurt," I whispered, still somewhat fazed from how fast it all happened.

He merely stared. "I'll be fine," his throat was coarse and dry. I looked harder, there it was. A bullet wound.

"No, you're not. You're shot!"

"We're almost home Renee," but his arm extended across my lap soon after.

"There's a medical supply in that door there. Just command it to open," he kept his left hand on the wheel, tightening his grip.

"Open!" as if the car couldn't hear me. A first aid kit popped out. "I only know the basics so don't judge me." He merely kept his neck long, face stern, awaiting the sting. "You should take that mask off or you'll get over heated," unscrewing the top of the medicine.

He hesitated. "It hasn't done it before. Not until we're safe."

"No one can see us. Do as I say or you'll kill us both if you pass out," I snapped shut, alarmed of how much I sounded like the Joker. No, not like him. It wasn't like him, not that sinister more like commanding with a caring bite. But the manual drive would have switched automatically if he let go. Why was I like this?

"Manual Drive."

"Manual Drive Engaged."

He removed his grip and lifted the mask overhead. The top of his hair now tousled in a villainous manner. Resembling one of the tragically gorgeous villain every popular TV show had. He leaned, groaning in pain as I put on the peroxide.

Find the bullet, dig it out, I have it, it's right here, just all the way, got it. He cringed but sucked it up like he normally did, hiding any faults.

"I can't believe you came back for me when I told you not to," this could have been so much worst. Bandaging him with a sharper tug. He only hissed, grinding his teeth. "You wouldn't have gotten shot if you just stayed away. Why would you come back when I begged-"

"Because you're worth it," he matched my anger. "Because you mean everything to me. Because I love you. Do you want more?"

Trembling fingers finished the last wrap and put pressure to stop the bleeding. We stared. "You need a real doctor for this to heal completely. I think-"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes," looking down.

"And you know I meant it?"

"Yes."

He thrust his lips before I even knew he was this close. Dry chapped moved tenderly with his soft wet mouth. Missing, aching, loneliness, fear. Bruce leaned first, intently studying every detail.

"I won't ever lose you again. And there's only one way I can do that. To keep you with me, away from harm, at all times."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled, dimples blaring amongst his perfect skin.

"I still don't-"

"We're getting married. Tomorrow."

_a/n_

_picture of Bruce after he takes the mask off on profile page under Chapter 16 xD_

_Rescuer or Raider_


	17. Reflection

**.**

**17**

**Reflection**

Rain streamed across the window, their trails following after in long strides. Its cold remnants traveled from the tip until being stopped by Bruce's sleeve. The jacket went much further than my wrist. It started to rain so he dangled it over my shoulders, walking hand in hand into the building. But now that we're in here, I'd rather be right out in its pour.

"You shouldn't worry," Bruce watched as I scribbled a design across the misty window.

"You're right," I sighed. "I shouldn't worry that Harvey is in critical care, that I'm top priority in the Joker's Most Wanted List, that no matter where I go what I do, he'll always find us." He stopped the finished scribble and brought my hand away from the window.

"Don't ever say that! You're with me and I will never, look at me, never let anything happen to you again."

I couldn't. I wanted to believe him, to know that all I ever need to do is crash into his arms and the monsters will go away. They won't. Not when the world's most dangerous criminal has only one thing on his mind, to get you back.

The monitor beeped loudly as it's been doing every few minutes. "I told her you're here," he let go.

"Who?" I followed, moving around his arms.

"Rachel of course. When I told her you were with me, she started bawling. You have no idea how happy she is to know you're finally safe."

"Do you think he'll always be like this?"

"She's on her way- What?"

The white cloth spread over Harvey's damaged face. A sharp pain beat down into my heart, his scorched skin. I did that to him. I didn't ignite his face but I was the one who brought him there. If I hadn't been so stupid and stayed in Rachel's apartment at least until morning then he wouldn't be laying on this hospital bed. Sleeping without any idea what's waiting for him when he wakes up. When he looks in the mirror.

"The last thing I said to him was that I didn't love him. And I think- I think he misinterpreted it as me not loving him at all. Right before the Joker engulfed his face in flames," resting my head against him so the tears could drop. Maybe it'll wake him up just so I can tell him I'm sorry.

"You blame yourself for this happening. Renee, you _did not _do this. The Joker did, all of this is his fault. Not yours. Don't you dare blame yourself for his actions."

The door slammed open, Rachel out of breath on the other side, looking less than a complete wreck. "Renee!" she charged the room, nearly bumping into Bruce. "Oh my god!" pulling us together. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, you're safe, thank you Bruce." She squeezed his coat even harder.

We could be twins in terms of how horrible we looked. "I'm so sorry Rachel. I couldn't stop him in time before he- Harvey- I'm so sorry. If I answered more quickly or-"

"What?" she turned. "Bruce, didn't you-"

"I did," he walked to the other side.

"Renee-" I didn't want that, I didn't want sympathy, not for this.

"Did Bruce tell you?" Change the subject.

"Wha- About what?"

"I already told her," Bruce sighed, knowing this problem was still going to exist. I was never going to forgive myself. She took Harvey's hand, the same way I held him, observing his fragile state.

"If you're speaking of the wedding then yes I know," she winced, biting back tears.

"Are you alright?" I don't want to hurt her. She let his hand remain unmoved and took mine, leading us to where Bruce stood.

Snatching up his and interlocking mine. "You're in love, it's been obvious since we were kids. And you deserve this without someone keeping it from happening," her tone serious and final.

Bruce embraced her yet let her go in the same manner and pulled me to him. Harvey tilt his head to the side, still asleep, his beautiful side seemed to glow in the light. Bruce tightened, he was so warm. I wasn't used to such affection. I was more used to the holding one minute, hurting the next.

The pain still radiated. The knife tearing, marking forever. But everything changed after that incident. He didn't hurt me. Just little squeezes, violent mood swings, nothing physically damaging. Emotionally yes. But why can't I remember anything that hurt?

I pulled away, Rachel now crying with consistency.

"Rachel look at me," drying her tears with the back of my hand. "I broke his heart. I did. Ripped it out and let the Joker set it on fire. The one person he's going to go to for comfort now, is you," now I was crying. God this hurt. "Excuse me," I pulled away and went for the door.

He caught me. "You need to stay in here, I can't let you go alone."

"I want to leave."

"Hey stop, don't push me away," this comforting, wasn't working. "I'll take you home. Rach, do you want to stay?" She nods, not looking.

He half dragged, half guided to the door. It slid open but we stopped. It was barely audible but Harvey was saying something. His mouth was moving but still asleep. Rachel dropped her head, burying it within her arms. Sobbing. What did he say?

"Let's go," he took us through.


	18. Waterfall Cascade Armani Lush

**.**

**18**

Part 1

**Waterfall Cascade**

The green ship sailed across the horizon pushed by turquoise waves. Lights rolled behind the picture. It was relaxing, watching the lights move, trying to mimic the movement of waves. I leaned further into the frame, even the mahogany frame was beautiful.

"There's sound to it," they reached for the cord, moved the dial until it clicked twice. Ocean, louder than any normal waves would be. "You look beautiful, your aura is divine," they laughed, my laughing as well, knowing it was far from the truth. I knew how I looked and it was far from beautiful. "Why do you not want a veil?"

"I want them to see me as I am. They know I was kidnapped. I have an excuse."

"You always put yourself down. Never really seeing the truth, just like your mother was."

I smiled, stepping to the side, a mirror. For not having a professional, I guess this is the best she could do. After all, Rachel was the one who introduced me to makeup. Of course she mastered the hair, half up/ down with natural waves enhanced. But still, all of the faults made themselves known. Especially the scar marked even in the happiest moments.

"You've always been a father to me Alfred and I can think of no better person than you walking me down that aisle," I fixed the white shawl, covering its hideousness.

"I always wondered what it'd be like to walk a daughter down the aisle. I'd say you fit that perfectly." A knock on the door. "Come in."

"You're glowing," Rachel entered in her fitting and glamorous blue dress. Of course I'm glowing, the skylight's rays are pouring as if I were some target for the sun. I'm not glowing the way she thinks I'm glowing. "I think Bruce is just as nervous as you."

"I'm getting married Rach and I think I'm about to have a stroke," I had to swing the shawl under my arms to keep the sweat in tact. Several times.

"Well, if we have to we'll go to Gotham General, they have a chapel. And I think Bruce is about to have a stroke too," giggling like school girls. We were sisters again and embraced like such. "Be good to him."

"Always."

She laughed, rubbing my arms with perfect manicured hands. "Ready?"

"More than ever," looking over the gown. Beautiful belt jewels around the hips, sleeveless, waterfall train starting right after the belt down to the floor. It held so much beauty, I felt ashamed to wear it. But I fell in love with the design.

"Ready Alfred?" waiting for his arm to snake with mine.

It does so. "Of course."

Rachel opened the double doors to the enraptured aisle.

_* Link for Wedding Dress under Carving You section *_

**18**

Part 2

**Armani Lush**

The blurred image of Bruce in his Armani tux. He was the only one standing there with a priest alongside. It was a small crowd, a _safe_ crowd as Bruce put it. He looked so handsome, so perfect. There was no best man, Rachel was serving as both. And that was it, just the five of us here.

Rachel blocked his view, she stepped in front, waiting for the music to start. Her bright blue gown flowing behind her, she picked it of course. Looking so much better, so much more refreshed than yesterday. We all were.

Alfred squeezed gently, a cue to get ready. Rachel turned to face Bruce, smiles then searches for me.

"Just remember," he whispered. "Your love is stronger than what any weapon, any man can corrupt. Nothing can touch you." Why is he saying this? "Love my son as much as he loves you."

I was already on him, the groom. Nodding, smiling, tearing up, shaking in complete agreement even if what he truly meant was unseen.

We reached the altar, the priest enjoying the atmosphere with his bible pressed firmly into his chest. "Who gives this woman to this man?"

"I do," he did so.

"You're so beautiful," Bruce whispered lightly. Too flushed, I gave a smooth caress on his cheek rather than speaking.

"I'd say we should get started," the priest chuckled, hinting towards the kiss probably.

"I'd actually prefer you delaying this for another-oh-let's say FOREVER," a voice boomed. Echoing across the walls, seeping through the tiles, simmering over like a plague. A loud _crack _rang from the alarming voice. The voice I knew I would hear but hoped it would never be heard.

Hiding behind the pearl curtains, black slacks popped out first along with the rest, full body following. "There's my girl," the Joker spread his arms wide to embrace. The pink and yellow bouquet fell. I couldn't move. Bruce held his arm like a bar, daring the edging clown to cross it.

"Leave," a small hint of Batman's voice. "Now."

He placed his sleek glove against his lips. "Shh! We're in a church, don't curse. Speaking of which, do you like my suit? It's new, looks better than yours actually. Thought I should dress for the occasion. You know what they say _Dress for Success_. Now I'm only here for one thing and I believe you're about to marry that thing. So hand her over or-well-you know me well enough to guess what."

Nails dug into his suit, begging, begging with all I had. "Stay please just stay Bruce. He'll kill you, I can't- We can run, we can-" enclosing up and down his back, trying to calm the fury, the muscles straining to be unleashed. I need him here, I need him to stay.

"Well then, I guess we have no other choice now do we?" He stared deeper but not fully. Where is he looking? One of the men appear, smacking Bruce with the back of a gun. Right for the immediate pass-out for victims, the back of the neck.

"Bruce!" Why is this happening again I- No no. This was too easy. It can't be this easy. It can't. I won't let it. I have to fight.

But I won't.

Rachel spoke for me. She kicked the man who was standing over Bruce and took the gun. "Don't move!" But he kept forward. Instinctively, she blocked his view from us. That won't go over.

He frowned. "So if it isn't the cousin Rachel," still walking closer. "I know all about you."

"Apparently you don't know anything about me or her, I'm her sister!" This is wrong, this is the wrong fight.

He stopped, brows furrowing, mumbling to himself. "Those files were written by morons," scoffed. "Anywho, cousins/sisters, what's the difference these days? I'm getting off subject here. These men are obviously no match for you so why don't you just put down that big gun before you do something you'll regret."

She rotated the cylinder, fired and missed. He didn't even jump just stood staring.

"That was unlucky," now staring to her feet. "Oh Renee?" I was close but couldn't get to him, to Bruce. On hands and knees, I froze, they were both glued to the intention. Rachel shook her head, denying my going any further. He held out his hand, pinky motioning towards him. "Wrong direction sweetheart, I think you mean to be crawling this way."

Rachel waved the gun more vigorously, threatening him with every amount of anger she's been holding onto. "You don't get to talk to her-" They're standing too close, back away Rach, back away! But he did it. Ripped the gun from her control.

Taking them off slowly and silently. Bruce moved to the side side, still passed out. I placed the left heel on the marble floor, turning to Rachel who was raising her hands as if under arrest. Crawling to the side, looking behind her. There he was, standing even closer, the gun pointed directly upon her face.

Quicker than I've moved in weeks, I charged, pushed Rachel behind, slapped her arm from doing the same and "DON'T!" held out my hand. All before the moment of him squeezing the trigger. He released the pressure. "I'll go with you if you leave everyone alone."

He smiled, lowering the weapon. "Knew you'd see things my way. But we're not leaving empty handed," he redirected to the priest who dropped the bible and was grabbed by the men.

"Renee," Rachel called, now kneeling beside Bruce.

The Joker took control and dragged, literally dragged this limp naïve thing towards the side door. "Don't you dare come after me," I need him to hear this. She screamed after us, crying, cursing, begging. "I love him Rach, tell him!" We were outside already. "So much."

The priest, still with his hands up, walked out shortly. "You don't have to do this son."

He rolled his eyes, licking his chops in annoyance. "No actually I do. You have a little job to do for me and my future bride here," threw us into the van. Slammed down on the seat, just as I did when we first met. He climbed in after. "Now now save it for our honeymoon." He closed the open legs.

This can't be happening. This isn't life's different choice for you. Listening to the priest being shoved in the back, Simon revving the engine for another jerky ride and the Joker's heart pounding. He's keeping me here, pressing into his chest so hard. This can't- I can't do this. I can't marry him.


	19. Van Massacre Rights

**.**

**19**

**Van Massacre Rights**

"Please," the priest sighed, another failed attempt in reasoning. "This woman doesn't deserve this. Let her go back-"

"Shut him up!" They did. He fell hard against the side of the van as Simon made a sharp turn. "You know," he watched me all the while. "With a few years of marriage, you may grow to_ love _me-"

I can't believe I just did that.

He turned, gaze searing their sockets. His cheek slowly turning red.

He's going to strangle me.

I slapped him, hard. Harder than needed to.

"We're taking a detour," his voice deeper, heavier. "Take Rover St to Highway 44."

Simon acknowledged with a wide turn and a heavy foot planted. The van sped onto the highway. He didn't look again, he pushed me from his lap. Nearly into Simon. But he kept a firm grip, completely steady.

He held forward, seemingly angry yet focused on something else.

I moved slow, now properly against the joint seat.

Where are we going?

"You pissed him off enough. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets rid of ya right now," someone laughed from the back. The others joined. Did I say it aloud?

"Yea yea. That's what happened to Fred last time he pissed the Boss off. Threw him right through that car window, it was brilliant," another snorted.

"I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you. It's not like he ain't listening to you two," someone interrupted.

No one else spoke.

Who cares if he throws me through the window. What else do I have now? He's taken everything. Simon resembled too much. He had the same expression, eyes forward, rock hard face, no movement. It was like looking in a mirror while I was the hinge.

Don't push it. Don't do it.

I never learn.

Leaning forward, grasping the seat, edging closer to his white ear. Tiny strands of his unruly curls brushed against my nose. "Please."

Nothing.

"Jack?" This would do it. I pleaded his name as if it granted entrance to heaven. He blinked, slowly turning. But then he gave an answer, his lips slammed into mine. Wide and in shock. Deepening, harder and rougher. The paint cracked and fell between us. It hurts! It- Stop!

He broke with surprising speed. Biting his lip. "You're right, we'll save it for the altar." Simon and him share an understanding.

The van exited the highway and drove towards a stoplight. The fog thickened even more. The light turned red. Simon slowed, we stopped, the Joker yanked me back to his lap while Simon sent many rounds of bullets into everyone in the van. He dropped the gun and kicked the door open.

Too afraid to move.

"God have mercy," a voice whispered softly.

Just before I tried looking, the priest had survived, Simon leaned back in and slid me out. Kicking against the seat frantically. "Let me go!"

But he had me over his shoulder, a limp corpse dangling. The flowing dress rocked with his large steps. With more spunk to the Joker's night, now with a joyous grin. He hopped in front of us, trailing his touch across my legs before opening the van

"Let's go Father Goose. That's it, very good, shall we?" He dragged him towards a towering building, old and reeking of rotting wood. "Welcome to the Old Gotham Cathedral!"


	20. Pachelbel: Canon in D

**.**

**20**

**Pachelbel: Canon in D**

Old Gotham Cathedral. Ancient Cathedral. Everything was barred, windows falling off, an old haunting castle. Strange and beautiful. Pigeons cawed from the top of the altar, staring to us in curiosity. They flew away the moment the Joker slammed the priest into the back wall. Pointing his knife into his neck, whispering to him in hushed tones.

Simon side-glanced.

I wouldn't dare run even if he did look elsewhere. "He trusts you," I lost the shawl, it's gone, nothing to keep warm, nothing to hide the past. "I know that sounds impossible. That he actually trusts somebody other than himself. But he does."

He blinked, still watching the interrogation. I waddled closer, almost touching his arm. If this is what it took to feel safe again, I was going to cling to whatever was near. And this huge person was the only thing that met those standards. We bumped together, he doesn't move, simply looked to where we were touching. No clown mask. He wasn't wearing a mask. The first time I was actually seeing who he was. And what I saw nearly caused a temperature raise. Nothing compared to the usual henchmen now rotting in the van.

He was gorgeous. Ruggedly so.

He held sex appeal so naturally as if he had no clue as to what the charm required. Perfect formulation of a mouth, nothing like a woman's but of a man's criteria for an attractive feature. Nose, pointed in sophistication. A thick scar slashed through his right brow as though it couldn't grow back from how horrible the damage once was. Various other blemishes were placed around his face and neck, battle wounds. Spiked black hair, shaved slightly on the sides but not nearly as obnoxious as others would wear. Slightly shadowed, not of mature growth but of a clean appearance, an effortless cut. And strong, so very strong, abnormally so. Muscles weren't too great but rather of an intimidating size. Who was he, really? His name was an alias. There's no way a man like this could be called Simon.

Still staring into our arms, he skimmed his further, like the touch revolted him. But he merely brushed against the jeweled belt before intertwining his hand with mine. I could have jolted but the way he stared. As if saying it was alright, that my need for his presence, for his security was alright. That he wasn't going to let anything happen. Anything _he _considered dangerous according to _his _standards. Which could be either dangling from an apartment duplex or a skyscraper. And he was dangerous, another unfortunate factor but yet I attached myself to him from the beginning. Even though I didn't have a choice with a high fever but it felt comforting to have him here.

Why was he with the Joker?

The priest yelled in pain, raising his hands over his head. He dragged him under the altar, twirling around with Simon gracefully stepping to the side as soon as he finished twirling into his place. I clenched my hand from the new emptiness, I need something to hold onto.

"Now, just like I said-"

"And just like I said, I'm not performing a marital ceremony between you and this woman when I have no consent from her. I'm not joining you with her under god in a holy place. You are nothing less than evil and violence-"

"See, that's where you're wrong Goosey. I believe He loves violence. Want to know why? Because there's so much of it. People wage war, burn sacrifices, pillage and plunder and tear the flesh. And why? Because He gave us violence to wage in his honor."

"God gave us moral order, not violence."

"There's no moral order as pure as what's happening right now. _Now_," points gun. "Continue the ceremony or I'll send a moral bullet straight through your moral head."

The priest and I stared as if we were both waiting for me to run. But I couldn't. A slim, cold object rammed across my knuckle, the one ringer now bearing a heavy burden. But not before he slipped Bruce's ring off, tossing it over his shoulder. It fell to the broken floor, splinters causing an obstacle as it rolled until toppling flat.

And I just watched it all happen with no strength to catch or run to it. There was this new thing here, this new metal resting deep into my skin. It was beautiful.

Of course it was. There's no denying the beauty of the purple diamond or the emerald vines intertwining around the diamond as a frame. "Customized," the Joker whispered. "Just for you."

"How sweet. A ring with your trademark colors. I couldn't have asked for a more devoted husband than you." Sarcasm and venom ripped through, glaring with as much as I could. A precious gem perhaps but no more precious than the love I held for Bruce. He doesn't understand what he's done and would never receive any affection in return.

He yanked me hard into him. "Well I could always add another color if you like. How's red do for you? Dark, deep and endless red. It'll look even better around your white fingers," jerked me back but still held tight. "Go," he ordered the priest who was shaking his head.

"Just do it," I pleaded, shaking with him. "Please. I can't have anyone else hurt."

Still hesitating, he began with the words I imagined hearing with Bruce. But that's something I can only imagine, not live. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered-"

"Yadda yadda yadda. You want to keep breathing, skip to the important part."

"Do-do you," he paused, having trouble with how he should say this. "... Joker take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"Indeed I do. Forever and _ever. _Now ask her," he looked around as if expecting Batman to break the door. He wasn't.

The priest looked as though in grave apology. I nodded, this wasn't his fault.

"Do you Renee," his hands shaking. "Take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Now I was shaking and it wasn't just my hands.

Voice cracked, eyes shut, knees weakened. "Yes." Down I go, knees gave, hitting the hard floor with a hurtful break. This should have happened long before.

"Oh!" the Joker laughed. "Always so clumsy. Here sweetums, let me help you back up. Say the rest!" he practically held a stance for both.

"No, this isn't right."

"Simon," who grabbed another gun from his pocket and shot the priest in the shoulder.

I lurched forward as though to catch him but he fell. "Say it!" and was pulled back.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," he tried to say more but couldn't, he was gone.

Vigorously now, I shook no, making it hard for him to kiss. But he smashed us together.

Slow and disturbing.

His lips were on mine, it felt like he was drawing blood. He pulled away, staring into his work rather surprised. "Ah yes, the art of kissing. I do believe I have mastered it. We'll get that paint off of you later. It is getting me all hot though. Simon, check on Papa. We got to get going."

"Alright, alright," he whined and scoped me up the way grooms do when they carry their brides into the hotel room or a new house. "Just leave him Simon. I don't want to waste any more time, let's go!"

Simon dropped the priest like a sack of potatoes.

Mascara traveled harder, staining and blackening. The devil-may-care type of tears. But the devil does care in some sadistic way. He's the one still holding me up. Still gazing into his work, the way his paint was smeared, the black liquid dripping along his red. Singing the wedding song to himself, Simon not far behind.

"Da da dum dum da da dum dum. You've just made one clown a very happy man," steps out into the cold fog. "And we have our whole lives for me to return the _favor_."

T h e E n d

_a / n_

Yes, you're probably staring into the screen blinking like a maniac, hyperventilating, crying... okay, I'll stop over exaggerating :) It is the end. But cheer up my loyal and beautiful readers! A Sequel shall be coming.

I'm not stopping bc I love writing it.

Thank you so much to everyone just reading this. Really, hope it was good though?

For all of you who have reviewed, you have no idea how much I adore you!

For all of you who read it through all the way, you have no idea how incredible you are!

~*JrOeKnEeRe*~


	21. The Sequel

**Ҫarving ϟou Țhe Ṧequel:**

**:: βleeding ϟour Ҫhaos ::**

**Summary**: "Cheeks were covered with kohl, lips were still red & bruised from his tainted kiss. It was everywhere. There's nowhere to run, no help, no screaming, no one. Tasting & breathing that paint, inflamed with it. He walked closer, I backed away."

**Youtube Promo Videos** link : Under Story Section on Profile Page

**Quick Preview**:

"Then, out of some twisted perversion he struck forward, taking us both down to the mattress. Unleashed as soon as our eyes were engaged and his hands lingered at the corset's string. I couldn't see his expression, couldn't comprehend what was happening or see what he felt. I lost it."

**Actual story is under My Stories xD**

Welcome Back to the Joker Era

**"** The **Joker**: I'm in control of the asylum. You're not going anywhere I don't want you to. Understand?

**Batman**: If you think I'll let you run...

The **Joker**: Blah, blah, blah! Always with the hero speak! I'm getting bored of watching you. Why don't you just come find me? **"**

-Quotes from Arkham Asylum video game x)

I just **love it** that's why. Here's another one:

**" Batman**: Tell me something, you've never let me capture you this easily. What are you really planning?

The **Joker**: Oh, nothing much. Hundreds dying in pain and fear, all their meaningless lives brought to a horrifying conclusion. All thanks to you and a book of matches. Was that the answer you wanted? **"**

**:: I'm Baaaack ::**


End file.
